


Extasy

by msmorie



Series: The Underneath [6]
Category: Acid Black Cherry, Cali≠gari, D'espairsRay, Dir en grey, Jrock, LUNA SEA, MUCC, Oblivion Dust (Band), X JAPAN, the GazettE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Fast Cars, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Organized Crime, mentions of other jrockers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmorie/pseuds/msmorie
Summary: “The greatest leaders have always broken the rules. He was soft. He probably spent most of his life sucking up to his oyabun, licking the old man’s boots. Our clan didn’t rise to where we are just to grow weak and bloated off the back of some fucking hostess clubs and and pachinko parlours. Real power is when people are too afraid to fuck with you.”
Relationships: Heath (X JAPAN)/Sugizo (LUNA SEA)
Series: The Underneath [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1105776
Comments: 74
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

[[ p l a y m u s i c ]](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Oa8uEqU0jeQt44mWTD1txSD9P87MCN9t)

It was a beautiful day for a funeral: clear blue sky, fluffy white clouds, hardly a whisper of wind. It was particularly cold for late November but the sun helped to take some of the edge off. Dressed in their sharpest black suits, Miya and his boys bowed along with the rest of the mourners and waited patiently for their turn to lay a white lily in the casket around the deceased. Many bowed deeply in reverence to Sakurai Ao, the late oyabun of the Karigari clan before stepping back to allow the next person to pay their respects.

His death had been a shock not only to his own clan, but to other Yakuza clans and Japan’s network of organised crime. Aside from such vices as cigars and a keen fondness for expensive red wines, Sakurai had been an otherwise healthy man until he was brought down by a serious stroke last year. He had stayed on life support in what doctors termed a ‘permanent vegetative state’ for several months until his wife Itsumi tearfully declared that he would rather die than live in such a state. The doctors switched his life support off and Sakurai had died peacefully.

One by one, Miya, Satochi, Yukke, Kiyoshi, Tatsurou and Sakura each placed a flower amongst the masses of white blooms in the casket and joined the queue of people waiting to offer their condolences to his widow.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Miya solemnly grasped both of her hands in his and bowed. “He was like a father to me. We have lost a great man.”

“Thank you for coming,” Itsumi said, bowing back in an almost mechanical manner. Dressed in a black kimono with her hair pulled back in a severe bun, the woman was the very picture of exhaustion and grief.

Miya and his boys moved away and watched silently while the pallbearers carefully lifted the heavy casket and carried it with reverent grace into the waiting hearse, glossy black in the sun and laden with more flowers.

The first shot missed and sent a small clump of grass and dirt flying up, and all heads turned toward the sound. It was instant chaos: guns going off on all sides and nobody could tell who, what or where, they had all been asked not to bring any weapons to the funeral as a sign of respect, shouts of alarm, screams of panic, cries of triumph.

“Who is shooting?!”

“Put your guns away _now_!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Bastards!”

“The old man’s fucking dead!”

“You fucking cowards, how dare you show your face at his funeral!”

Through the crush of people all wearing black pushing in all directions, Miya looked this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of who had taken it upon themselves to interfere with Sakurai’s funeral. He glimpsed a familiar face—no, two—and there was gunfire everywhere, screams from those who had been shot, and suddenly it became real, most everyone here was unarmed and in danger, and there were more shouts about cowardice and dishonour, and then there was a high-pitched shriek and someone yelled, “Itsumi! Let her g—” and ended with another gunshot and a woman’s scream.

Several of their close colleagues and friends had already been hit. Another gunshot went off very close to Miya and he motioned to the spot where they’d parked their cars. The others fought their way through the throng of agitated mourners, keeping as low as they could, flinching every time a gun went off in their direction. The cars were parked up on the hill—hell, it was more like a gentle slope—but right now it might as well have been a 45-degree climb and they were exposed as grass and dirt exploded around them, _someone was shooting at them_ , “Cars, cars, cars, get your cars!” someone yelled but they couldn’t tell which side they were on, it was mass panic and they were running full-bore now, practically scrambling up the last stretch on all fours.

“Split up!” Miya threw himself into the black Aston Martin and slammed the door shut, and a second later Yukke joined him. Over the sound of their own laboured breathing, they could hear the dull thud of more car doors, and Tatsurou and Kiyoshi’s cars rumbling to life. The Aston roared and Yukke gripped the headrest with one hand when Miya floored it, and he stole a quick glance behind them to make sure the others were also moving. The cars sped out of the cemetery gates and Yukke grunted when Miya fairly flung the car through a tight turn onto the main road in a cloud of tyre smoke.

Yukke stared at the road straight ahead. “What the f—”

Miya’s wing mirror exploded.

“ _Fuck!_ ” The car swerved and Yukke struggled to twist around in his seat. A black car was roaring up behind them and before he could quite gauge how fast it was approaching, he and Miya were both thrown forward. The other car was ramming them. They both ducked at the sound of another muted gunshot aimed at the Aston, punching through the glass.

Keeping his head low, Miya pointed at Yukke’s side of the car. “Glovebox!”

Yukke fumbled for the latch, missed, swore when the black Mustang rammed them a second time and Miya fought to keep the car from fishtailing, shouting, “Yukke!” and this time the glovebox fell open and he snatched up the gun. The gentle electronic hum of the window sliding open was swallowed up by the roar of engines and the wind that whipped his hair into his eyes and he fired off three shots in quick succession that hit the Mustang’s hood, and the driver sheared off to the right. Yukke ducked back inside the car when the Mustang’s passenger shot back, losing his balance when Miya swerved.

“Fucking hell.” Miya gritted his teeth and glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Hold on. I’m gonna brake hard, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And then I want you to shoot.”

“Okay.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Yukke braced himself for impact and Miya slammed the brakes hard: tyres squealed, the Mustang smashed into the rear of his beloved Aston, and Yukke leaned out and emptied the magazine into the other car. The windscreen was smashed. Yukke reached into the glovebox again.

“No spare!” Miya shouted. He shifted the car into gear and it peeled away from the Mustang with a loud groan of crushed metal catching on metal.

“How fast can this go?” Yukke slouched back into his seat.

“Faster than a Mustang,” Miya said grimly. “Faster than a smashed-up Mustang.”

  
  


“Fucking bastards!” Sakura ejected the empty magazine, slammed in a spare and kept shooting. “Keep it steady!”

“I’m fucking trying!” Kiyoshi yelled back, hunched over the steering wheel, and swerved when another shot thunked into the back of his Evo. He glanced over; Sakura was practically outside of the car now, holding onto the roof with one hand and shooting with the other. Kiyoshi was about to yell at him about making himself an easy target when the car heaved off to the right violently.

Sakura’s gun went flying and he scrabbled desperately to hold on. “Kiyoshi!”

“I think they shot out a tyre!”

“What!”

“ _They shot out a tyre!_ ” Kiyoshi struggled to regain control and they were losing speed fast, and in Kiyoshi’s wing mirror the reflection of the other car was getting bigger and bigger and it was like he was watching in slow motion as it drew level with him, and without thinking he reached over and yanked Sakura back inside the car a second before the other car smashed sidelong into them.

It took a few very long seconds for Kiyoshi to realise what was happening: a frighteningly loud bang like a gunshot went off inside the car and the airbag punched him in the face. He felt his whole body lifting out of his seat and he braced one hand against the car ceiling and the other against the door, and through the cracked windscreen he saw road and grass and sky, and a horrible, sickening fall, and the wind was knocked out of him when something crushed him up against the car door as they tumbled again. It only took a couple of seconds for the car to flip twice and land on its roof but inside the car it felt like an age and when Kiyoshi’s head finally stopped spinning, there were several more seconds of stunned confusion before he was able to move.

The smells hit him first: sweat, stale cigarettes, scorched rubber, smoke, gunpowder. He’d been firmly strapped in and that had saved him from the worst of it. Kiyoshi licked his lips and swallowed. He tasted blood; he’d probably bitten his lip during the crash. Aside from that, he felt fine; disoriented and shaky, but fine.

Sakura was not fine. He’d been tossed around inside the car like a ragdoll, crashing into Kiyoshi as the car went down and smashing his head against the windscreen, and now he lay in a crumpled heap in the upturned car with his head bent at an odd angle. There was blood all over his head and face, and the big crack in the glass in front of him was stained red.

“Sakura.”

Sakura didn’t respond or move.

“Hey, Sakura. Are you okay?” Kiyoshi reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle push, then a shake, and then a harder shake. “Sakura?”

Dread slowly crept up on him like a chill. Trying not to panic, Kiyoshi groped about for his seatbelt and unbuckled himself. He managed to get the door open with some effort, and he crawled out on his hands and knees. His body felt completely robbed of strength, both from the shock and from the battering he’d received, and he didn’t notice that someone was there until their shadow was fully blocking the sun overhead.

Kiyoshi looked up. The person standing over him was silhouetted against the late afternoon sun. He squinted and when his eyes adjusted, he saw a man with very short, pale blond hair and full tattoo sleeves on both arms just as the man pointed a gun at his head and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

Miya drove on for an hour or so. He and Yukke were unhurt, but he had a pretty good idea of how bad his car looked and hoped they wouldn’t get pulled over by the cops. He pulled off the main road as soon as he was able to, cruising through smaller roads until they found a quiet-looking petrol station where they stopped to catch their breath. While Yukke went inside to buy them some drinks, Miya walked around the Aston, and every dent and scratch and crunch hurt more than the last. He brushed a finger over one of the bullet holes. The worst of the damage was the wing mirror and, of course, the entire rear end. The car was done for. Miya sighed.

“Here.” Yukke handed him a bottle of iced tea.

Miya unscrewed the cap and took a few long gulps. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

They both scrunched down on the ground with their backs leaning against the car.

With his free hand, Miya undid his tie and his shirt cuffs, and stared at the ground between his shoes, not really seeing anything. “Do you think the others are okay?”

“Mm,” Yukke said noncommittally. He was turning his phone around and around in his hands. Finally he opened his recent calls list and dialled Tatsurou. It rang twice.

“Yukke.” Tatsurou sounded tired.

Yukke tapped the speaker icon. “Tatsurou. You’re alive.”

“Yeah.”

“You guys all right?”

There was a very long, drawn-out sigh. “I’m okay. Satochi’s hurt.”

Miya pressed a hand over his eyes. “Did he get shot?”

“No. He hit his head when their car hit ours. He can’t remember what happened but says he feels pretty bad.” Tatsurou was walking around the perimeter of the little 7-Eleven’s parking area, around and around. “I got him some painkillers for now. He’s in the car resting.”

“Jesus.”

“We were run off the road by some fucker in an obnoxious, loud as fuck muscle car but managed to lose them.”

“Good. We got away, too. My car’s fucked, though.”

“Ah shit.”

“Never mind. Have you heard from Sakura and Kiyoshi?”

Slight pause. “Mm. Yeah. Uh. We were behind them and saw them get hit. Kiyoshi’s car rolled.” Tatsurou was quiet for a moment. “I think they’re dead.”

Yukke glanced over and Miya rubbed his face with both hands and swore softly.

Tatsurou spoke again. “Miya?”

“Yeah?”

“What now?”

There was a long pause so Tatsurou walked back to the car, got in and closed the door as softly as he could. Satochi looked at him questioningly.

 _Miya_ , he mouthed, pointing at his phone. Out loud, he said, “Miya?”

“Meet me and Yukke in Tokyo. We need Yoshiki’s help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, we are back!


	2. Chapter 2

Ever since Heath had casually mentioned that he used to play bass guitar in high school, Lunacy’s blond bassist had taken to giving him impromptu lessons every now and then to brush up on what he’d forgotten. It was awkward at first but after several tries it all started to come back again, and he enjoyed messing around and seeing what he could come up with. In the little recording studio that they’d booked for the afternoon, Inoran watched J and Shinya arm-wrestling while Heath thumbed the strings, and he glanced around. He couldn’t help it; it was a reflex to always be aware of one’s surroundings, only this time he saw Sugizo and vocalist Ryuichi off to one side, away from the rest of the band, sitting very close to one another, deeply engaged in a quiet, private conversation, and Heath felt a jolt of uneasiness when Ryuichi pulled Sugizo into a hug.

He turned away just as they looked in his direction, pretending to focus his attention on the arm wrestling match. It was close and both J and Shinya’s faces were screwed up from the effort. J was a pretty big guy, but Shinya had the muscles of a well-practiced drummer so it really could be anyone’s game.

Heath looked up again as Sugizo got up to go to the bathroom, casting a quick smile in his direction and Heath smiled back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Ryuichi was alone and looking straight at him, so Heath kept his head down, even as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Either one of them would beat me in three seconds flat.” Ryuichi offered him a tentative smile, trying to be friendly. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh. Sure. Thanks.” It was clearly a request to talk rather than a casual offer, so Heath nestled J’s bass back into its case and got up to follow the band’s vocalist to the fridge in the far corner where Ryuichi retrieved two well-chilled cans of Coke. 

“Hey, Heath,” he said in a very quiet voice.

“Yes?”

“Listen, uh. Please don’t take this the wrong way.” Ryuichi kept his eyes downcast. “There’s nothing going on between us. We’re just friends.”

Heath paused. “Pardon?”

The smile Ryuichi gave him was a little patronising. “I can tell that you don’t exactly like me being around Sugizo. And trust me, if I can tell, so can he.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you. I um… I’ve been going through kind of a rough patch for… a while. Relationship problems.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Heath felt chastened. “Is everything okay?”

“We broke up,” Ryuichi said bluntly.

“Oh,” Heath said again. Now he felt even worse.

“She just didn’t feel the same way about us. Hadn’t for some time, apparently. Spent six or so months trying to fix it, but…” Ryuichi looked down and shrugged. “And the thing is, Sugizo’s been there for me the whole time. I promise there’s nothing funny going on. It’s just nice to have a good friend to talk to, you know? Helps to make everything suck a little bit less.”

“I understand.” Heath turned away. “Um… I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable or anything. Got a few demons of my own.”

“We all do, I suppose.”

“For what it’s worth, things do get better with time.”

Ryuichi gave him a wry smile. “Speaking from experience?”

Heath nodded slowly. “Yes.”

They both looked over when a loud yell went up.

“That wasn’t fair!” Shinya waved a finger in J’s face. “You’re not supposed to hold the table with your other hand!”

“I barely touched it!”

“Bullshit!” Shinya grabbed an astonished Inoran by the shoulders. “Let the ref decide!”

Wide-eyed, Inoran looked between J and Shinya. “Um. I’m just a spectator, dude.”

“All right, Sugizo, you wanna take on the champ?” J shouted.

Sugizo gave him a level look. “You’re on,” he said, rolling up his sleeve. “Don’t waste my time, all right?”

“Yeah, right. You scared already?”

“Actually, we’ve got an important work function to go to,” Sugizo said primly.

Ryuichi handed Heath a Coke. “He’s a great guy. You’re very lucky.”

Heath smiled to himself. “I know.”

  
  


“How does that feel?”

“Mm. A little harder.”

“Like this?”

“Ah—fuck—yes. Right there.” Sugizo grimaced and grunted a little when Heath drove the heel of his palm into his shoulder, but it was small discomfort for knowing how much better he’d feel once the knots had been eased out. He sighed. “How can these hands be so good at killing people?”

Heath just kept working at his shoulders, warming up those tired muscles in thoughtful silence.

“Saw you talking with Ryuichi before. Is everything okay?” Sugizo knew that Heath had seen them hugging, and that he had always been somewhat aloof when it came to the band’s vocalist.

Heath didn’t say anything for a little while. Finally Sugizo gently said that he could stop, so Heath wrapped his arms around his lover and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“I feel so selfish,” he said.

“I’m not convinced that giving someone a shoulder massage fits the definition of ‘selfish’...”

“Hm.” Heath couldn’t help but smile at this. “No. Ryuichi told me. About the breakup and how supportive you’ve been, just being there so that he could have someone to talk to.”

“Oh. That.” Sugizo gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. “Yeah. I didn’t want to mention it to you because—”

“I know. It wasn’t your place to say.”

“It was a shitty situation.” Sugizo sighed. “They’d been together for three years, but… turns out she was just kind of faking it for a while. Who knows how long.”

“That's so sad.”

“Yeah, it sucks a lot, but… sometimes these things happen, I guess. People grow apart.” Sugizo hummed contemplatively. “I don’t know, it’s not like I really do anything. I mostly just sit there and nod and let him vent.”

“That’s what I mean. You’re being so supportive for a friend, and I’m—”

“Hey,” Sugizo said, gently but firmly. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Heath didn’t honestly believe that Sugizo might cheat on him, but his dismal track record with relationships had left him hurt and insecure. Sugizo wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that he could erase all of that deep hurt, and it had been a lot of work to teach Heath to talk about things instead of letting them fester, but they cared enough about each other to work through it.

“Besides,” Sugizo added. “I kind of like knowing that you’re jealous. Makes me feel special.”

“You are _not_ special,” Heath sniffed.

Sugizo smiled slyly. “Oh, I think I am. You think just anyone can do this?”

  
  


Ryuichi shivered and tucked his arms about himself. “Hey, isn’t that Sugizo’s car? I thought they had to leave.”

“Yeah.” J raised his eyebrows and bent down to peer at the amorous couple kissing, and they jumped apart when he rapped on the window sharply. “Hey! Is this your ‘important work function’ or are you just gonna sit here all night exchanging saliva and steaming up the windows?”

Behind him, Heath caught Ryuichi’s eye and they shared a tentative smile while the other two traded insults.

J flexed his arm. “If you’ve got so much time, how ‘bout a rematch?”

“Don’t be such a sore loser,” Ryuichi scolded.

“I’m not!”

“All right, all right, we’re going,” Sugizo said. Once J and Ryuichi were out of earshot, he said, “Do we really have to go to this thing? It’s not like Yoshiki’s going to miss us.”

Heath chuckled. “We’ll never hear the end of it from him if we don’t at least show up at Black Cherry. If it’s boring, we’ll make up an excuse to leave.”

* * *

Situated in the heart of Kabukicho, Black Cherry was a cabaret bar commonly used as a neutral meeting point for many of Tokyo’s organised crime factions. Tonight was strictly an intimate social event, though, for Yoshiki had invited a number of close friends and trusted industry connections for a birthday celebration. A jazz band played onstage with bar owner Yasu at the forefront, his hand wrapped around the microphone, eyeing all of the party guests with his smouldering gaze while he crooned. He was a ‘fixer’ who had bowed out of the industry a number of years ago but nobody ever truly leaves, and he was so well-connected that high-ranking members of Japan’s underworld often sought him out for social engagements. Security was always tight at these events; those who didn’t present their invitations at the door would be turned away, all guests had to turn in their firearms, knives, drugs and even lighters to the two massive bouncers in the foyer, and then they’d be screened by metal detectors and subjected to an uncomfortably thorough frisk search. Only very occasionally things would get out of hand; during an engagement party some years ago, a guest had gotten ripping drunk and glassed someone over a disagreement and half of the people in the room were ready to tear him to shreds for this infringement.

Everybody didn’t necessarily get along with everybody else but under this temporary truce, they all set aside their differences to enjoy a leisurely night out and the frankly excessive buffet that Yoshiki had demanded. Alcohol flowed and party guests intermingled freely; perhaps a little too freely, Sugizo observed with distaste. Yasu had been eyeing Heath all night and over the rim of his drink, Sugizo watched as the man sidled up to Heath and started putting the moves on him.

And who wouldn’t? Heath was looking stunningly beautiful tonight. Unlike Sugizo, Heath preferred not to be the centre of attention and to that end, he tended to dress simply. Tonight, though, the black silk shirt and form-fitting black trousers he wore, coupled with his soft, shy smile, had him standing out amongst those who flaunted their wealth in Valentino and Hugo Boss, Dior and Givenchy, McQueen and Cartier.

For the most part, Sugizo didn’t mind other people looking at Heath; hell, sometimes he even liked catching them eyeing off his lover, knowing that they couldn’t have him, but right now Yasu was getting a little too friendly, standing very close, touching his shoulder and his arm, and then when he leaned in _really_ close, Sugizo decided he had seen enough, and he got up and left Pata at the bar.

“— _so_ nice, what perfume is that?” Yasu was saying just as Sugizo stalked up behind Heath, put a possessive hand on his ass and _squeezed_.

“Take a hike, you little slut,” Sugizo growled.

Yasu blinked at him, feigning surprise. “Oh. Are you two still together?”

“YES.”

“All right, all right. Calm down. We were just talking.” Yasu sniffed and flounced off, shaking his head.

Sugizo glowered after him. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

“He’s Yasu, what do you expect?” Heath said mildly.

“I expect him to keep his hands off someone that he _knows_ is taken.”

“Stop that.” Heath removed the hand from his ass and Sugizo scowled.

“What, now I’m not allowed to touch you either?”

“No,” Heath purred in his ear. “But if you keep feeling me up like that, you’re going to have to finish what you’ve started.”

“Really, now?” Sugizo liked the sound of that. He threaded his fingers through Heath’s hair and kissed him, gently at first until Heath responded with more passion, and he tasted of sweet champagne and strawberries, and the softest whine left Heath’s lips when Sugizo slid a hand down his back and gave his ass another squeeze.

Heath broke the kiss and pushed him away. “You are in so much trouble when we get home.”

“Promise?” Sugizo leaned in to kiss him again but Heath just smiled coyly and slipped away amongst the other party guests.

  
  


“Who the hell invited my fucking ex.” A tall, harried-looking man lurched up to the bar and slapped some money on the counter. “Two Martinis, and there’s ¥5000 in it for you if one of them’s poisoned. I don’t even care which one.”

hide’s face lit up. “Oh, let me!”

“He’s joking, we aren’t poisoning anyone,” Pata said to the bewildered bartender before he could call for security. “Right Ken?”

Ken Lloyd just cast a dirty look over his shoulder, muttering something about selfish, cheating bitches. Pata and hide laughed, and Ken tapped out a cigarette instead and leaned over the counter for a bartender to light it. “So, you heard the news?”

“What news?”

“About Sakurai. He’s dead.”

“Yes,” said Yoshiki, joining their little group, Martini glass in hand. “Word gets around fast.”

“What?” hide narrowed his eyes in confusion. “But I could have sworn I saw him when I came in.”

“Not that one. The other Sakurai. Sakurai Ao.”

“Oh.”

“You know what will happen now,” Ken said.

Yoshiki nodded. “They need a new oyabun, and he had no heir.”

“He did, but…”

“Yes. Has his will been read?”

“I don’t know. Probably not yet. They had the funeral in Ibaraki today.”

“Mm. I’m sure this has been difficult for Miya. He and Sakurai were close.”

“Ah, I’m so glad to see you here tonight, Mr. Lloyd.” It was Yasu, smiling effusively. “I was starting to think that you were avoiding me for a while there. Can I offer you a drink?”

Ken took a drag of his cigarette and gave him a withering look. “Fuck off, Yasu. I’m not into dudes.”

  
  


It was getting late and everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves, some more than most. Heath and Sugizo flirted with each other from across the room, promises of what they could expect in the privacy of their own apartment later that night. Many of the partygoers got drunker and drunker as the night wore on, and so nobody quite noticed or realised what was going on when Yasu approached Yoshiki with one of the bouncers in tow.

“I beg your pardon,” Yasu said. He looked serious. “But there’s someone here to see you.”

“—urgent, just please let us in, we need to speak with Yoshiki _now_!”

“What’s going on?” Yasu asked crisply.

“Sir, they don’t have an invitation and—”

“It’s all right,” Yasu said, and the bouncer inclined his head and stepped aside.

“Yoshiki!” Still wearing their suits with the cuffs and ties undone, Miya and his boys looked ragged and desperate.

Yoshiki turned to Yasu. “Is it all right if they come in?”

“As long as they ditch their weapons and get a pat-down like everyone else.” Yasu shrugged. “Sorry. House rules. You understand.”

Too tired and shaken to argue any further, they relinquished their guns—they were empty anyway—and allowed themselves to be frisked with no complaint, and Yasu escorted them to a quiet room where they could talk.

“So.” Yoshiki sat down beside Miya. “What happened? Where’s Kiyoshi and Sakura?”

“Dead.” Miya’s voice was tired and strained. “We were attacked. Everybody was. At Sakurai’s funeral.”

“I see.” Yoshiki kept his own voice very calm and steady. “Any idea who was behind the attack?”

“Yes.” Miya raised his head to look at Yoshiki and his jaw was tightly clenched. He was practically shaking with fury. “That bastard Kaoru.”


	3. Chapter 3

The Karigari clan ran their business like most other Yakuza families: taking a cut of the profits from pachinko parlours and other local businesses on their turf in return for security, running illegal gambling dens, operating host and hostess clubs, maid cafés, nightclubs, brothels, loan sharking and money laundering, even a touch of light drug trafficking here and there. Sakurai Ao was a strict but fair leader who loved his family fiercely, so when his sister Ryoko begged him to take her son in if anything happened to her, he agreed.

Her husband was a genial man at the best of times, but he was a mean and violent drunk. Sakurai had already urged her to leave him more times than he could count, until finally Niikura Kaoru came into Sakurai’s care at the age of 7 with a black eye and a broken arm. After a particularly bad day at work, Niikura Sr. had come home drunk and beaten the boy, and when his wife intervened, he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed. Niikura was long gone by the time Sakurai found them the next evening.

“Uncle Ao,” Kaoru had whispered. “What if he comes back?”

Sakura gathered the boy in his arms but his eyes remained fixed on the body of his dead sister. “I’ll make sure he never comes back.”

Kaoru had hated it from the start. Although Sakurai was kind to him, the man was always too busy to spend time with him, and Kaoru grew up surrounded by scary-looking, middle-aged men who barely spoke to him. He had but one friend in his new school, a short kid named Kyo. Their friendship was one borne of convenience, because none of the other kids wanted to play with them. Everyone had seen Kaoru being picked up in the expensive-looking cars and rumours about his links to the Yakuza spread very quickly. Together, they grew up as those two weird kids that everybody was a little bit afraid of, and this suited them just fine. They had the freedom to do whatever they wanted and nobody could or would tell them otherwise. Teachers and faculty members, keen to avoid confrontation, kept quiet.

It wasn’t until Kaoru turned 16 that Sakurai began to pay more attention to him, gradually integrating him into the clan. It started with a few introductions, bringing the teenager along with him for a few minor business meetings, taking him around to the various businesses that were affiliated with them. The day that Kaoru earned his first tattoo was the proudest day of his life. This gave him a glimmer of hope, until it finally dawned on him that it wasn’t because Sakurai actually cared that much about him. Sakurai and his own wife Itsumi had no children, and as Sakurai’s closest living relative, Kaoru was named as his heir when he turned 20 and made to feel very important. He was given his own area to look over within Sakurai’s territory, and when Kyo joined the clan, together they flaunted the power that they commanded. The tattoos they bore on both arms made junior clan members bow their heads and lower their voices meekly. They didn’t dare speak up against Sakurai’s nephew and heir. So when Kaoru and Kyo skimmed money off the top of business cuts, nobody said anything. When they assaulted the girls working at the maid cafés, nobody said anything. When they stole drugs for their own use, or for resale outside of Karigari, pocketing the money themselves, nobody said anything.

Still, it all slowly added up—or rather, didn’t add up. Skimming a little here and there could be written off as a miscalculation or some other human error when the figures were sent to Sakurai and his highest-ranking officers. But when it became consistent, and the losses became so great that the company accountants couldn’t balance the numbers, this sparked an investigation. Kaoru and Kyo could intimidate the minimum wage staff who ran pachinko parlours and hostess clubs, but the company accountants were beyond their reach, so they were found guilty of embezzlement. Kaoru’s pay was docked and Makoto, one of Sakurai’s most trusted men, was ordered to keep an eye on him; a small punishment for his infractions, all things considered. Three weeks later, Makoto stumbled in with a broken nose and Kaoru was hauled in, demoted and stripped of his territory. With nothing of his own to control, and being under the command of someone else, Kaoru and Kyo kept their heads down until their third strike a few years later.

  
  


“You haven’t visited me in months, Miya.” Sakurai’s tone was reproachful.

Miya gave him an apologetic smile. “I know. I always mean to, but so often something at work comes up.”

Sakurai just grunted at this.

“How is Itsumi?”

“Tired. Her father hasn’t been well. I’ll tell her you called in, though.”

“Perhaps I should speak with her personally...”

“No, no. It’s fine. She knows you care.” Sakurai poured two cups of sake and offered one to Miya. The younger man accepted with a polite incline of his head and waited for his host to drink first.

“I always love coming here,” Miya said after a moment of comfortable silence. “It’s so peaceful.”

“Yes,” Sakurai agreed. All around them were beautifully manicured trees and shrubs, a small fountain from which water trickled down over artfully-arranged rocks, and on either side of the door leading back into Sakurai’s own office, two aged stone lanterns. He gestured first at the imposing concrete building that towered over them, and high concrete walls cleverly hidden by more trees and shrubbery. “My oyabun’s oyabun built this garden, you know. He said it was important to have a quiet space where one could remove oneself from daily life.”

Miya nodded. The little garden was almost always awash with colour: fresh green bamboo all year round, hot pink azaleas in spring, white peonies in summer, red camellias with their bright yellow stamens in winter, and right now, the maple trees were dressed in burnished copper and gold of late autumn. In here, you could almost forget that this was in the backyard of the fortress that was the Karigari corporate office in Ibaraki.

“Miya, even though you never joined us, I still think of you family.”

Miya bowed his head again. “I’m afraid I haven’t the honour to join the clan.”

“Nonsense—”

They were interrupted by a lot of shouting and banging, and through the glass they watched a few of Sakurai’s men burst into his office. Sakurai apologised to Miya and got up.

“What manner of bullshit is this, I have a guest…” He trailed off when he saw Kyo and Kaoru being restrained by two men each. Behind them were a young man and a young woman, both in their early twenties. The young man looked scared, but not as terrified as the woman. She had shock written all over her tear-stained face and was clutching someone’s suit jacket tightly about her shoulders to hide her torn dress.

Sakurai’s right-hand man Shuuji bowed deeply. “I’m sorry, but this is urgent. We’ve been keeping an eye on them and warned them many times, but we had a call from one of the hostess clubs saying they were hurting the girls. When we got there, we found them forcing one of their juniors to rape one of the girls. They were filming the whole thing.”

Right now, Miya desperately wanted to leave. Sure, he and Sakurai had a good relationship but at the end of the day, this was none of his business and he shouldn’t be seeing this. But what could he do? The only way in or out of the garden was through the one door to Sakurai’s office, and he couldn’t very well interrupt the man to take his leave. So he just sat there, not knowing where to look.

“Are you sure they were filming?” Sakurai was asking.

“Yes, sir. On his phone.”

“Show me.”

Shuuji shoved a phone in Kyo’s face. “Unlock your phone.”

Kyo lunged at him like a wild animal, but the two guys on either side held him fast. “Piss on your mother’s grave—”

One of the guys delivered a blow to his stomach while the other twisted his arm out in front of him, holding it out just long enough for his thumbprint to unlock the phone.

Miya heard everything: distorted, bass-heavy dance music in the background, some of the men cheering, others angrily shouting at the reluctant young man to do it if he didn’t want them to beat him up, the woman screaming, sobbing, begging them to stop and let her go, a loud slap and a sharp cry, the occasional lewd voice yelling, “Jin, does it feel good?” or offering suggestions on what else they could do to her.

“That’s enough,” Sakurai said quietly. He glanced over at Miya then, and closed the door adjoining the garden, shutting him out, as if that did any good.

Shuuju put the phone away and Sakurai approached the young man, Jin. “Can you tell me how this happened?”

Jin cast a fearful glance at the elders surrounding him and shook his head vigorously. “I don’t… I don’t remember, sir,” he mumbled.

“Come, now, tell me what happened.”

Jin shook his head again. “I… I was drunk.”

“Don’t be afraid, son. Speak.”

“Please. No. I can’t,” Jin whispered.

“Nobody will hurt you,” Sakurai said. “You have my word.”

Soft sobbing. “I didn’t want to. They… they said they would hurt me if I didn’t… do it. They said they would kill me. I know it was wrong but…”

“That’s all right, son,” Sakurai said in a soothing voice, and he raised a hand to pat his shoulder but Jin cringed away.

“This is a serious crime, sir,” Shuuji said. “We can’t have members of our clan conducting themselves like this without the appropriate punishment, even if he is your family.”

“No, you’re right. Shuuji. From this day on, they no longer belong to the clan.”

Kaoru leaned forward and spat in his face and the rest of Sakurai’s men beat him until he curled up on the floor.

Sakurai wiped the spittle off his face with his sleeve. “You no longer belong to this clan and I am renouncing you as my heir. I’ve thought of doing this for a long time.”

“Fuck you!” Kaoru struggled against his captors. “You can’t do this! I’m the only family you have! Without me you have _nobody_!”

“I’ll have no such scum in my family,” Sakurai said calmly.

“You used me! You only wanted me because you could use me!”

“Do you remember what your father was like? Do you remember what he did to your mother?”

“Don’t you dare talk about her—”

“Do you remember how your father beat you and abused your mother? Do you remember that you were sitting next to her corpse when I found you?”

“Shut up!”

“ _Do you remember that he raped her and choked her to death?_ ”

“Shut up! Shut UP!”

“I hunted him down so that he couldn’t lay a hand on you anyone else, and now look at what you’re doing!” Sakurai was shouting now. “I took you in for my sister’s sake but you’re your father’s son after all.”

Outside in the dappled shade, Miya could hear muffled snatches of what was being shouted through the closed door and watched, frozen in his seat when Kaoru and Kyo were beaten, gagged, and shoved face-down onto the old, polished oak desk, while Sakurai strode across the office. The tanto knife with its lacquered sheath that he kept on the shelf was mostly for show, but it was very real and very sharp. The cluster of people surrounding the guilty obscured his view but Miya could hear the screams through the glass and he had no trouble imagining it: strong hands holding them steady, the knife easily biting through skin and flesh and bone. Sakurai was not as fond of yubitsume as his predecessors—namely that it made it too easy for other people, including the police, to identify them as Yakuza—but when the crime called for the right kind of punishment, it was hard to go against tradition.

Shuuji bowed before Sakurai, holding a bloodstained cloth in his hands to present the severed digits to his oyabun. Sakurai nodded and waved him away, and stood over the pair who knelt on the floor.

“Everyone in this room is a witness. You are no longer Karigari or my heir.”

“Fuck you,” Kaoru snarled. He was rewarded with a hard blow to the head that sent him sprawling, and he staggered back to his knees, wiping the blood from his nose. His gaze roamed around the faces looking down on him, eventually settling on the lone figure in the garden, staring at them. “What’s _he_ doing here? He doesn’t belong here!”

“We are a business and all businesses need relationships.”

“He’s not one of us!”

“And now, neither are you.”

“He’s an outsider!”

Sakurai’s tone was cold. “What does it say when even an outsider has shown more respect than the both of you combined?”

“Fucker,” Kaoru spat. “You bring him in to suck your cock or someth—”

Sakurai backhanded Kaoru so hard he crashed against an opulent folding screen depicting a group of Edo-period _oiran_ at a pleasure house, splintering the old, lacquered wood. “Get them out of here. I can’t stand the sight of them.”

  
  


The last that the Karigari clan heard of the pair was when Hayashi Yoshiki drove all the way from Tokyo to pay Sakurai a personal visit. This came as a surprise; although The Underneath were more than familiar with the dealings of the Yakuza and had civil business relationships with a number of families, the two rarely crossed paths for the Yakuza were more than capable of disposing of their own.

“Hayashi! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good evening.” The two shook hands over his desk. “Have you been well?”

“Yes, fine. Business as usual.” Sakurai gestured for him to sit, and one of his staff brought in a tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Yoshiki swirled the wine in its glass, inhaling deeply before having a gentle sip and taking a moment to savour the minute complexities. "French? Provence?"

"Yes."

Another sniff, another sip. “Château Roubine?”

“You have an excellent palate, my friend.” Sakurai reached to turn the bottle so that they could read the label. “Now, is there something I can help you with?”

Yoshiki put his wine glass down and folded his hands in his lap. “The reason I’ve come is because we have been approached with a contract offer.”

“Oh yes?”

“For you.”

Sakurai’s mellow expression darkened. “From?”

“Niikura Kaoru.”

“I see.” Sakurai leaned back in his chair and his gaze wandered around the room, deep in thought. “May I ask how my darling nephew managed to persuade Hayashi Yoshiki to—pardon my words—execute the job personally? I wouldn’t have thought they could afford to hire you.”

Yoshiki paused to take a drink. “I turned them down.”

That made Sakurai laugh heartily. “Now _that_ is a great honour. The Underneath rarely turns down a contract.”

Yoshiki smiled and took another drink. “It’s a coward’s errand. A petulant child who wants to usurp their oyabun should do it themselves.”

“Well said! Very good. Thank you, I do appreciate your having come all this way to speak with me about this.”

“I thought it was news best delivered in person rather than a phone call.”

“Indeed. Would you stay for dinner?” Sakurai asked.

Yoshiki shook his head politely. “I’d hate to impose, and there’s work to be done back in Ginza.”

“Work can wait,” Sakurai said gruffly. “We’re having a little dinner party tonight. Just me, Itsumi, Shuuji, Kenjirou and Miya. It’s no trouble to add another place at the table.”

“Miya,” Yoshiki mused. “Is he the one who calls you his mentor?”

“The very same.” Sakurai drained the rest of his wine. “Nice young man, that one. Got a good head on his shoulders. If he keeps going the way he is, he’ll be a big player in the game. I’ll introduce you to him at dinner.”

  
  


Not two years after this, Sakurai was dead.

  
  


“They just… just fucking swarmed in and started shooting and… it’s his fucking funeral, people were in fucking mourning!”

Yoshiki just stayed quiet and let Miya take a few deep breaths to calm down.

“So. We all got in our cars. Me and the boys.” Miya took another shaky breath. “They followed us and we’re fucking being shot at, the Aston, the Aston that _you gave me_ is fucking destroyed and I fucking—”

“It’s just a car,” Yoshiki said soothingly.

“Yukke and I were able to lose them, but—”

Tatsurou cut in. “Satochi and I were behind Kiyoshi’s car. They got run off the road and the car rolled. If the crash didn’t kill them, there’s no way Kaoru’s boys would have let them go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaoru's a real piece of work - sorry guys :|  
> Hope you're all staying safe. Keep reading and writing and encouraging each other, and we'll get through this!


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m so sorry Yoshiki, I know you’re having a night off and we’ve put you in danger by coming here but they killed… they killed people, they killed his wife Itsumi and…”

“Are any of you hurt?” Yoshiki asked.

Miya covered his face with his hands and scrunched them into fists. “No. Yes. Satochi’s been hurt.”

“He hit his head pretty badly,” Tatsurou said.

Yoshiki got up and left the room, and returned a while later with hide and Heath. “Yasu doesn’t have any medical staff here, but these two might be able to help.”

hide crouched down in front of Satochi and studied his face carefully. “Hey, buddy. Remember me?”

“Of course!”

hide grinned. “Okay. Can you tell me your name?”

“Takayasu Satochi.”

“And his name?”

“Yaguchi Miya.”

“Birthday?”

“Uh. Mine or his?”

“Yours.”

“August 12.”

“Do you see trails when I do this?” hide slowly waved his fingers in the air.

“No.”

“Good. Do you remember what happened?”

Satochi looked at the floor, trying to think. “We were at Sakurai Ao’s funeral. Uh. It’s just kinda blank after that.”

“Don’t worry if you don’t remember right now,” hide said gently. “Anything else?”

“Okay.” Satochi nodded. “Well… I remember we met up with Miya and Yukke, and the drive down to Tokyo.”

“What can you feel? Does anything hurt?” Heath asked.

“My head is killing me. Keeps throbbing.” Satochi rubbed his temples. “I feel a bit dizzy. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Anything else? Neck or back pain?”

Satochi gingerly turned his head from side to side. “No.”

“Sounds like concussion,” Heath said, and hide agreed.

“You should be okay after a few days’ rest,” hide said. “You guys should keep a close eye on him for the next 24 hours and see if he gets worse. Nothing to eat or drink until we can get a doctor or nurse to look at him properly. Has he taken anything for the headache?”

“I gave him some paracetamol,” Tatsurou said doubtfully. “That was all I could find at the convenience store but he said it’s not helping. Should we get something stronger?”

hide shook his head. “I don’t think so. If he falls asleep or passes out, we’ll have no way of knowing if he gets worse.”

“Okay.”

“Just keep an eye on him and keep him relaxed. You all need to wind down,” hide added.

“Thank you,” Miya said gratefully.

Miya and his boys were allowed to remain in this room to rest, and hide offered to bring some of the party food to them if they were hungry.

“So what’s going on?” Toshi asked.

“Kaoru and Kyo rounded up a bunch of hooligans and shot up Sakurai Ao’s funeral,” hide said grimly. “Two of their guys are dead, as well as a bunch of others who were there. I heard they killed the widow, too.”

“Which guys?” Pata asked.

“Kiyoshi and Sakura.”

The mention of Sakura’s name gave Taiji pause. He had never gotten along with the man ever since their ‘misunderstanding’ in Ibaraki a couple of years ago, but they had at least worked together and were on the same side.

It was difficult for them to enjoy the party after that. Yoshiki and Toshi disappeared to make a few phone calls to assess the situation with what remained of Karigari and those who had been shot and killed at the funeral. Heath would go and check on Satochi every so often. People who had seen Yasu and Yoshiki escorting four beat-up looking men who were clearly not party guests were curious, and although Yoshiki and the others said very little, many guessed that it had something to do with Sakurai’s passing.

“All right.” Yoshiki waved his men over. “We should go.”

“What about the party?” hide asked.

“Yasu can play host without me. The sooner we get Satochi looked at, the better. I’ve called in—”

He was interrupted by a lot of shouting and a gun going off, and everybody stopped and stared when Yasu and a couple of security guys sprinted for the front door. One of the bouncers had been shot in the arm, and Kaoru and Kyo burst in, demanding that someone bring Miya out.

Yoshiki leaned in close to Pata. “Go and make sure Miya and the others _do not_ come out here under any circumstances. I don’t care if a bomb goes off, Kaoru cannot see Miya here.”

Pata nodded and slipped away, hidden by the crowd pressing forward.

“Okay, okay, okay. May I ask what the problem is?” Yasu shouldered his way to the front of the pack. 

Kaoru wiped a smear of blood off his lip. “Bring them out _right now_ and nobody else has to get hurt.”

Yasu gave him a cool, polite smile. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about, but if the person you’re looking for isn’t in this room, then I’m afraid they aren’t here.”

Screams and angry shouts erupted when Kaoru seized a hapless waiter by his tie, almost throttling him. With his other hand, Kaoru smashed the neck off a bottle and held the jagged end to the terrified young man's face. “We know Yoshiki’s here, he’s got to be hiding them. These old men are all in it together.”

“I don’t know who you think you are storming in here like this and disrespecting my staff and guests,” Yasu said coldly. “But you are not welcome here and I am asking you to leave.”

“What? Who’s afraid of you and your hired muscle? Or are you gonna call the police?” Kyo sneered. He pointed a tattooed hand at the wide semicircle of guests, and a number of them took note of the shortened finger, a clear sign of disgrace. “Do you think we don’t know that every single one of you in here is unarmed? If we wanted to kill everyone in here, we could.”

“Probably. But look around you.” Yasu started walking in a slow semicircle in front of the gathered party guests. “Over there we have Sakurai Atsushi and his men. Morrie, everyone knows Morrie. Kiyoharu and members of the Kuroyume clan, I’m sure you’re familiar with each other. Fuki, Koga and Hana from the Doll’s Box and yes, Hayashi Yoshiki. We’ve got a lot of professionals here and not one of them would have an issue killing any of you with their bare hands if you really wanted to start shit here and now, while everyone’s trying to have a good time _on neutral ground_. In fact, they’d be pretty fucking keen, so you can fucking try it—” Yasu’s voice became dangerously soft, “—or you can take your business elsewhere and kindly fuck off.”

The room fell silent. All eyes were on the eight or nine men headed by Kaoru. He scanned the faces around them. This was not like ambushing Sakurai’s funeral. They had had more men there with more guns, as well as the element of surprise, and Yasu had just pointed out a handful of powerful underground figures that anybody worth their salt should know. Right now, they were at a disadvantage.

Kaoru spat and flung the broken bottle neck onto the floor. “Come on, Kyo. Miya and his boys can’t hide forever.”

Yasu forced a smile and bits of shattered glass crunched underneath his shoes. “Please, allow me to escort you out.”

The party was over by the time Yasu returned. He apologised to everybody profusely and the guests gradually made their way up to Yoshiki in twos and threes to take their leave. Within the hour, the only people who were still left were Yasu and his staff, The Underneath, what was left of the Shangri-La crew, and a handful of guests who were passed out drunk.

“Thank you,” Miya said to Yoshiki and Yasu. “I’m so sorry to have to bring trouble to your door—”

“Look, Miya,” Yasu interrupted. “I don’t care if it’s the second coming of Jesus Goddamn Christ himself, nobody barges in here armed and threatening _my_ staff and guests like that.”

Tatsurou snorted at this, but Miya protested. “All the same—”

“Trust me, they weren’t going to start anything,” Yasu said with a knowing smile. “If they thought I was bluffing, then they’re more stupid than we thought.”

* * *

Miya and his men were taken to the safehouse in Yokosuka where they’d be able to rest and figure out their next move. Yoshiki personally drove one of his nurses in to check on Satochi; concussion, as hide and Heath had suspected. With a few days’ rest, mild painkillers and a temporary ban on alcohol, he’d be back to his normal self, but they were to alert someone immediately if he happened to take a turn for the worse.

Tatsurou sat down next to Miya. “Are you all right?”

Miya took a short drag of his cigarette, exhaling quickly, giving Tatsurou a sideways glare. “Yeah. Why?” he said shortly.

“Because you—” Tatsurou leaned over and plucked the cigarette out of his hand, “—only chain smoke when you’re stressed out.”

“I’m not chain sm—”

“You smoked an entire pack yesterday, and this is your fourth cig in a row today.” Tatsurou dropped the smouldering cylinder into the cup of stone cold coffee in Miya’s other hand.

“Hey!”

The coffee cup was replaced with a glass of water. “You don’t need any more caffeine.”

In front of the television, Yukke snorted at this. Miya eyed them both irritably.

“What are we gonna do, Miya?” Satochi asked.

“Dunno yet. Trying to think,” Miya said brusquely.

“For one,” Tatsurou said, snatching the pack of cigarettes out of his hand, and Miya glared when Tatsurou looked him dead in the eye and dropped the pack straight in the trash. “We need a means of getting around. Both of our cars are cooked. Secondly, we can’t even go back to Ibaraki. Kaoru’s probably got his flunkies swarming all over Mito. If we go back to Shangri-La and it’s been taken over by _them_ , we’re fucked.”

Miya nodded and gnawed on a plastic coffee spoon. “It’s too soon to do anything. I think we need to sit tight and see how this plays out. Yoshiki will know what to do.”

  
  


It was business as usual at Extasy, although rumours of random mob attacks in the weeks since Sakurai’s funeral kept them alert. It was too frequent to be just regular gang activity, and this was confirmed when Ken Lloyd stopped by for a visit.

“It’s not like you to just drop in,” Pata remarked. “Do you have some new merch for me?”

Ken grinned and took a swig of his beer. “Yeah, the new Avon catalogue’s just launched and I thought you’d like to have first dibs.” He laughed. “No, actually Yoshiki asked me to come in.”

“He did?” That was odd. Normally Toshi or Pata dealt with suppliers like Ken directly. Yoshiki didn’t need to concern himself with these matters. “What for?”

“Well, seeing as how I’m an arms dealer and everything, I’m guessing he wants me to knit him a fluffy hat?” Ken put his beer down. “Tell you what, though. I made a drop at Kuroyume yesterday. Kiyoharu said that Kaoru and Kyo have been trying to poach their men. I’d be very careful if I were you. You’re hiding someone from them, aren’t you?”

hide and Pata said nothing.

Ken smiled shrewdly. “It’s all right. I know it’s not your place to say. All I’m saying is, if they can’t find Miya and his boys themselves, you know they’ll be coming for you next and they’ll have numbers on their side then. If anything, they were at least smart enough not to start anything at Black Cherry. Who knows, maybe you can negotiate with them peacefully.”

“Ken?”

They turned to see Toshi motioning at their visitor.

“Yoshiki will see you now.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Thanks for coming,” said Yoshiki, gesturing at an empty chair. “Please.”

“No problem.” Ken took a seat in the leather chair across from him and crossed one leg over the other, looking at the other man expectantly.

“Drink?”

“No thanks. I’m driving.” Ken pressed his fingertips together. “Are you placing an order?”

“Yes, I was hoping you’d be able to make a delivery for me.”

“Of course.” Ken unclipped the fountain pen from the inner pocket of his long overcoat and opened a small notebook. “What do you need?”

Yoshiki reached across the desk and gently closed the notebook. “This is strictly off the record.”

Ken gave him a very long look before leaning back in his seat, capping his pen and slipping it back into his pocket along with the notebook.

“Can you have four pieces to a secure location for me?”

“That hush-hush, huh?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“It’s no problem.” All arms dealers were used to handling private deals here and there; clients paid in cash, and they paid well. “Something like that shouldn’t be too hard. Any hardware in particular?”

“Whatever’s available.”

“I‘ll get you some Stoeger Cougars. That’s like the Beretta 8000 but better. Low recoil,” Ken said. Tough guys like Taiji liked their guns like their cars—big and loud—but Ken knew that Yoshiki preferred the smaller model himself, and so did Heath. Easier to conceal. “Ammo?”

“Yes, if you can.” Yoshiki reached into his drawer, pulled out a white envelope and slid it across the desk. “Will this cover it?”

Inside was a thick wad of cash and a folded slip of paper with an address written on it. Ken looked at this briefly before rifling through the money. “Just about. I’ll write it off as a discount.”

“No need. Put the balance plus ten per cent on your next invoice,” Yoshiki said. “Send it to Toshi like you normally do.”

Ken sealed the envelope again and tucked it away. “When do you want this?”

“Yesterday. Tomorrow. ASAP.”

“Mm. That’s tight. I’ve got a subcontractor who can make the drop…”

“No.” Yoshiki shook his head. “No subcontractors.”

“All right. I’ll do my best. I’d better get going, then.” Ken pushed his chair back and got up.

“Thank you,” Yoshiki said, reaching across to shake his hand.

“Pleasure.”

Just as Ken was leaving, Pata shouted at him. “Oi, did you end up talking to your ex the other night?”

“Yeah, she’s a two-faced cow!” Ken waved and let the door swing shut behind him.

* * *

Scarcely two days had passed and Yoshiki was going over some figures with Toshi when Heath knocked on the door to his office.

Yoshiki looked up. “Sorry, can this wait?”

“Ah,” Heath hesitated. “I don’t think so. It’s Kaoru and Kyo. They said they wanted to have a ‘chat’ with you.”

Yoshiki exchanged a look with Toshi. “How many did they bring?”

“None, by the looks of things. It’s just the two of them.” Heath glanced over his shoulder. “Something doesn’t feel right. Has Ken made the drop yet?”

“Early this morning. Is Taiji in tonight?”

“Yes. Pata and hide too. Sugizo’s out on a job.”

Yoshiki nodded slowly. “Okay. Keep an eye on them. Give me ten minutes and bring them in.”

The door clicked closed.

Toshi stood and closed his laptop, sliding it off the desk. “Wonder what that’s about. You should have one of the boys stay with you while they’re here.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure it will be all right,” Yoshiki smiled reassuringly. “Don’t want them to think that we have anything to worry about.”

Toshi paused at the door. “We might.”

“Yes, we might.”

  
  


Kyo and Kaoru sat at a table of their own, watching the people around them with a mildly amused expression. A cigarette dangled between Kyo’s fingers. The rest of the bar patrons seemed blissfully unaware of the frosty tension between these two visitors and the Extasy staff. Taiji stood with his arms folded across his chest, glaring at the pair. hide and Pata continued serving customers and clearing tables and would occasionally glance over at their unwelcome visitors.

Presently Heath approached the pair and looked down at them. “This way.”

He led them down the hall and stopped outside Yoshiki’s office. “Your weapons, please.”

Kyo just shrugged and showed him his empty hands, palms up.

“Your weapons, gentlemen,” Heath said with a polite smile that said he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Kaoru looked at Kyo and they each produced a gun and slapped these into Heath’s waiting hands.

“Thank you.” Heath ushered them inside and closed the door behind them.

“Good evening,” Yoshiki greeted them, rising from his seat behind the desk. “Please. Sit.”

They each took a seat across from him and accepted the wine that was offered.

“Is there something you’d like to talk about?” Yoshiki asked.

Kaoru put on his best smile. “Look, I feel that we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and our last meeting was… less than ideal. I do apologise for our poor behaviour.”

Yoshiki nodded sagely. “Is that for when you approached me about killing your oyabun, knowing you couldn't cover the fee?” he asked. “Or when you entered neutral ground, armed?”

Kaoru paused. “Both.”

“I think you owe Yasu the bigger apology.”

“Right, right. And we will, of course we will. We’re all professionals here. I just wanted to know that we have the utmost respect for what you do here, and you’ve worked hard to rise to the top of your game. That’s why you’re the best. If anyone wants a job well done, they go to The Underneath, right? And your men must be exceptionally well-trained. Are they all… you know, in on it? I mean, that big guy with the tatts—Rambo?—he’s gotta be a killer, right?”

Yoshiki maintained a steady gaze with an air of mild impatience and said nothing.

“Well. There’s a certain level of professionalism that goes hand in hand with becoming the best of the best.” Kaoru paused to take a drink. “Wow, that is something else. When you’re the best, you sure can afford the best. What do you drive? You look like a Ferrari man—”

Yoshiki put one hand on his desk very deliberately. “Kaoru. We’re all very busy people, so if you have something to say, please say it.”

Kaoru set his wine glass down and chuckled. “There it is. It’s that keen perception that makes you so good. All right, I won’t jerk you around. I have a small, very simple request. I’d like you to hand Miya over.”

Yoshiki sat back in his seat and gazed across his desk at Kaoru. “I’m fresh out, I’m afraid.”

“We have some unfinished business that’s not your concern. This is between us and them,” Kaoru said with a hint of forced politeness. “I’m sure you don’t want to be unnecessarily involved in Yakuza business, and we don’t want you to be, either.”

“Miya’s not Yakuza,” Yoshiki said curtly.

“No, but I’m sure you know as well as I do that he and Sakurai were close.” Kaoru’s smile broadened. “You know what, you don’t even have to hand him over. What am I saying, asking Yoshiki to hand-deliver something! Just tell us where he is and we’ll pick him and his boys up.”

“Miya’s a big boy. I don’t get a say in where he goes or what he does. For all I know, he’s gone back to Ibaraki to pick up the pieces.”

Kaoru sighed. “All I’m asking is a small favour. You don’t even have to lift a finger.”

Yoshiki just smiled at that. “I’m very sorry, but I’d rather not be unnecessarily involved in Yakuza business.”

The look that was exchanged between them signalled the end of the discussion.

Kaoru got up from his chair. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re very welcome,” Yoshiki said, crossing the room to open the door. “You can collect your things and one of my staff will show you out.”

  
  


hide was whistling a blithe tune. It helped him get through the monotony of chores after closing time, sweeping and mopping the floor.

“How about something more cheerful?” Pata called out.

“Like what? I’m taking requests!”

Pata thought about this for a second. “Uptown Girl?”

Taiji snorted loudly while he stacked the chairs onto the tabletops to clear the floor, but Heath heard him humming along to the tune only moments later.

“What are you smirking at?” Taiji barked when he caught Heath smiling to himself.

“Nothing!”

“Anyone got any more trash to dump while I’m out?” Pata asked.

They all said no and shook their heads so Pata hoisted the trash can, heavy with glass bottles for recycling, and Heath hastened to hold the door open for him.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Pata grunted, and disappeared into the chilly outdoors to empty the bin in the dumpster.

Not long after, they heard someone banging on the door to be let in, so Heath quickly snatched up a towel to dry his hands, all wet and soapy from doing the washing up.

“I’ll get it,” Taiji said, waving him away, and to Pata he shouted, “D’you forget your keys or something, old man?”

He stopped abruptly when he opened the door and saw his best friend being held at gunpoint by Kyo.

“The fuck!” Taiji raged. “Pata!”

His outburst quickly had the others running to his side. Toshi took one look and disappeared to fetch Yoshiki, while Kyo and five strangers, plus Pata, forced their way inside.

Heath reached for a knife but this small movement caught Kyo’s eye, and he jabbed the muzzle of the gun harder against Pata’s temple.

“All of you back the fuck up,” Kyo snapped. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Pata gritted his teeth. “Sorry, guys.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Yoshiki demanded.

“Sorry to have to do this to you, Yoshiki,” Kyo said. “But if you won’t work with us, then you’re against us.”

“This was between you and Miya. Let Pata go and leave us out of this.” Yoshiki was angry but he managed to keep his voice calm.

“You got involved in this when you made the decision to shelter him!”

“If you were any good, you’d be able to find Miya on your own.”

“If _you’d_ just handed him over, we’d all be square.”

Quick as a flash, Taiji drew his gun and had it trained at Kyo’s head. “Let him go, asshole.”

“Watch it, hero.” Kyo’s trigger finger twitched and Pata grimaced.

“Taiji.” Yoshiki placed a hand over Taiji’s. “Don’t aggravate them.”

“I’m sorry, they bust onto _our_ property, on _our_ territory, hold Pata hostage, and you ask me not to aggravate _them_?” Taiji snapped.

“We’ve done nothing wrong, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Yoshiki said patiently.

Taiji ground his teeth, but Kyo smirked. “Listen to your boss. He knows what’s up. You could learn a thing or two from him.”

“Fucking c—”

Toshi grabbed his arm. “Shut up, Taiji,” he said through gritted teeth.

“What do you intend to do?” Yoshiki asked.

“You’re coming back with us and you’re going to talk one way or another,” Kyo said.

Taiji sneered. “And how’re you gonna do that?”

Pata flinched when Kyo fired a shot into the ceiling above their heads, and Toshi tightened his grip on Taiji’s arm.

“Just do what they say,” Yoshiki said, clenching his fists. “We’ll get this sorted out without anyone getting hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I know we're all critical of our own work but I'm not super-happy with the writing in this story. I'm afraid that things will unravel if I keep trying to fix it, so please bear with me :\ I'm also fighting with another project but at least I've got another story completed that came together really easily and that'll be on its way when the time is right.
> 
> In the meantime, keep writing, guys! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Yoshiki, Pata, Toshi and Heath had gone with their captors quietly, but Taiji and hide had to be dragged out kicking and screaming.

“Search ‘em and cuff ‘em,” Kyo ordered. “Get rid of any weapons, phones, empty their pockets.”

Taiji grunted when one of the guys patted down his pants. “Wow, hello. Easy there. At least buy me dinner first.”

“Split those two up.” Kyo pointed at Taiji and hide. “Watch out for the big dog. Put him in with the two quiet ones. Aoi, anything?”

“No." A dark-haired man emerged from the building, shaking his head. "Couldn’t find anyone else inside.”

Another guy pulled a knife out of Heath’s boot and stared at it beneath Heath’s icy glare. “What the fuck. Look at this thing. This guy’s a fucking butcher.”

A short guy looked on in interest and then slapped hide over the back of his head. “So what’s your specialty?”

“Watch it, douchebag,” hide snapped. “Don’t touch the fucking hat!”

The short guy laughed and tweaked the brim of hide’s hat. “Whatcha gonna do?”

hide lunged forward and there was a loud yelp, and Aoi growled, “What the fuck, Ruki.”

Ruki held his hand to his chest and glared at hide. “Motherfucker bit me!”

With Yoshiki, hide and Toshi loaded into the back of the first van, Kyo slammed the twin rear doors shut, climbed into the driver’s seat and leaned out of the open window.

“You got this, Uruha?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuckwit,” hide muttered.

Kyo turned around in his seat and was about to speak and then stopped as though something had just occurred to him. He gave the three of them a hard stare, got out of the van and stalked over to the second van where two guys were still trying to wrestle Taiji inside.

“Fuck!” Kyo stormed back to the first van and seized Yoshiki by the collar. “Where is he?”

Yoshiki fixed him with a bored stare. “Where is who?”

“There’s meant to be seven of you. Where is the last one?”

Yoshiki said nothing, and hide made a pounce at Kyo when he hit Yoshiki hard across the face, but Yoshiki merely recovered his composure and remained silent.

Kyo slammed the door shut again, got back into the driver’s seat and drove off with Ruki and Aoi.

“Here, let me.” While Taiji struggled against Uruha and another guy, a third one flicked his cigarette onto the ground and bashed Taiji over the head. They practically threw him inside and he lay on the vehicle floor, groaning. “All right, get in.”

Uruha stared at him. “Kai, are you crazy? I don’t fucking want to get in the back with _him_. Reita can do it.”

“Both of you!” Kai snapped.

* * *

Stuck in the middle, Pata shifted uncomfortably. The three of them sat cross-legged on one side of the vehicle. The floor of the van was cold and hard, the ridges hurt his ass, and he had his back against one of the wheel arches so he couldn't even lean against the wall for even a modicum of comfort. They’d been driving nonstop for over an hour, headed for Ibaraki, he guessed, and every time they so much as said a word to each other or tried to stretch their legs in the confines of the van, Reita or Aoi would shout at them or try to hit them. A couple of times Uruha even threatened them with a gun. Taiji was as stubborn as ever and spent a good thirty minutes of their trip moving about to annoy them out of sheer spite, earning him more than a few quick cuffs about the head. Ordinarily Pata would let Taiji get himself in trouble if that was what he wanted to do with his time and energy, but the van was so cramped that every smack Taiji received bumped Pata into Heath, who was all knees and shoulders and elbows.

Finally he got fed up and nudged Taiji with his shoulder. “Just stop it.”

Not only was it annoying, but Pata had one of his handcuffs shoved right up to his knuckles and Taiji was making it hard for him to concentrate on getting the rest of his hand out. Taiji had growled something incomprehensible, but at least he stayed quiet from then on.

On Pata’s other side, Heath sighed and slowly stretched out his back, rolling his shoulders a few times, one after the other.

“Hey!” Reita barked and kicked his foot.

“Sorry,” Heath said with the sweetest smile imaginable. “Just stretching. Long drive.”

Pata froze when he felt Heath’s fingers tugging at his sleeve, and the younger man turned his head slightly and caught his eye.

Heath had already slipped his cuffs.

Pata clenched his teeth and eased the cuff over his knuckles as slowly as he could and god it felt like he was peeling the skin off his hand in chunks and dislocating his fingers. He was sure it was stuck but he didn’t want to pull it any harder, dreading the moment when the cuff would suddenly pop over his knuckles and give the whole thing away, so he just kept gritting his teeth and kept working at it, and his other hand was getting sweaty and slippery—curse Heath and his slender build and skinny everything—and then the pressure eased off. He’d done it, his left hand was out. Heath glanced over when Pata coughed loudly to hide the inward sigh of relief. His hand was burning, but he’d done it.

With the loose end of the handcuffs looped around his hand like a knuckleduster, Heath struck Reita square in the face and the man’s head snapped back from the impact, slamming against the van’s wall with a dull metallic _thunk_ and blood gushed from his nose where the handcuffs had done the most damage. Pata wrestled the gun from Uruha and everybody ducked when a shot went wild and from the driver’s seat: “ _What the fuck is going on!_ ”

The cramped space at the back of the van was a mess of unbridled punching and kicking while the car swerved, throwing Uruha into Taiji’s lap where he was promptly kicked off, and Uruha, Reita and Heath all made a mad grab for the gun when it clattered across the floor, but Pata reached over Uruha, yanked the door handle and shoved Taiji out.

“ _The fuck was that!_ ” Kai glanced over his shoulder as he drove; the van’s rear doors swung wide open. He swore and ducked when a shot went off, hit the brakes and pulled over hard onto the shoulder of the road, twisting around to see Uruha pressing the gun against the older, bearded guy’s head while Reita and the skinny guy held each other in a headlock. The third one—the angry dude with the tattoos—was nowhere to be seen.

Kai snatched up the gun from the passenger seat. “Let him go,” he snarled at Heath. “Or we’ll put a bullet in your friend.”

Heath glowered at him and slowly released his hold on Reita, who did the same… and then punched Heath across the face for good measure. Heath tasted blood but he merely wiped his lip with the back of one hand, and he and Pata said nothing.

“Fix their cuffs - in front so we can see their hands,” Kai ordered.

Uruha yanked the door shut again. “What about the other one?”

The obvious solution was to turn around; Kyo and Kaoru would have a fit if they got to Ibaraki with only two of the three guys. On the other hand, if they ended up losing all three while they were trying to grab the big guy, that would be it for them.

Kai pursed his lips. “We keep moving.”

“But—”

“We’ve still got these two. We keep moving.”

* * *

Sugizo stood in front of the cheap motel mirror, barefoot, a towel knotted around his waist, his torn and bloodstained clothes lying crumpled on the thin, mottled brown carpet just beyond the bathroom door. The cold night air whispered through the open window, cooling his damp skin, fresh from a hot shower. He wiped some of the condensation off the mirror and leaned in close, inspecting the cut beneath his eye. He hissed and winced; the antiseptic stung, but he kept dabbing at the cut and tossed the bloodstained cotton pad in the trash. It was a good thing that clients paid a hefty fee to engage their services. The cost of replacing all of the clothes that got ruined on the job could add up quickly, along with their medical bills.

He rinsed his hands in the sink and sat on the end of the bed. The well-worn springs in the mattress creaked and twanged. Given the choice, he would have gone for a nicer, more expensive place, but at least it was tidy and clean, and these small, cheap motels made life a lot easier when it came to work. Usually the only thing they really cared about was whether or not you had the money to pay for the room. They _said_ that drug use was prohibited, and it was all over the walls around the reception desk, but this was largely to save their own necks in case somebody happened to OD on their premises - not an uncommon occurrence. Most importantly, though, was that they didn’t ask questions or take credit card deposits and identification.

For a moment, Sugizo contemplated getting dressed, throwing his stuff in the car and going straight home. The bed here was crappy and uncomfortable, the water pressure in the shower sucked, and the damn heater emitted a tinny, high-frequency squeal that drove him mad when he was trying to sleep. But it was late, and common sense told him that the three hour drive home when he was this tired was a Very Bad Idea. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and then stopped. Would it be too late to give Heath a call? Probably. Either that or he’d be working at Extasy anyway, and might be too busy to answer or even hear his phone. In any case, he’d be seeing Heath when he got home tomorrow. He tossed the towel onto the chair, stretched out on the bed with its squeaky springs and fell asleep with thoughts of cradling Heath’s slender body against his own.

* * *

“ _What do you mean you lost one of them!_ ”

Reita and Uruha bowed their heads, and Kai haltingly said, “Two of them slipped out of their cuffs, sir. And then—”

Kyo didn’t let him finish and Kai reeled back, holding a hand to his face.

“It was just one guy—”

Kyo hit him again. “Just one guy. You had _one job_! We were already missing one and you let another one go! I _told_ you to look out for that one!”

Kaoru sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “Leave it, Kyo.”

“Kaoru, we need to get some people out there to find them!”

Kaoru strode across the parking lot and grabbed Yoshiki roughly by the collar of his shirt. “I know their type. We have their boss. They’ll come to us and deliver Miya here.”

Yoshiki and the others had spent the rest of the night on the rooftop parking lot of the Karigari corporate building watching Kaoru and Kyo taking it in turns terrorising those who were still left. Jin had been the first one to go. The hapless young man had knelt at Kaoru’s feet and begged for his life, and Kaoru simply pushed him over the guard rail. It wasn’t so much his screams while he fell; it was when the screaming suddenly stopped that turned people’s blood cold. Many of those who were present were rookies who had never seen a real fight before, let alone a murder.

“That,” Kaoru shouted with savage satisfaction. “Is what happens to anyone who betrays the clan or goes against me. He couldn’t even honour the clan by killing himself.”

Dissenters were beaten, some were shot and killed, a few who had really upset Kaoru followed Jin. It was only when the sky started to lighten that they called for a time-out to give their prisoners some time to think about their options. They were left out in the open with nothing: no shelter, no food, no water. A few of them tried huddling next to or underneath the ten or so cars in the parking lot to get out of the wind, but it did them little good when they were six storeys up.

The pair had returned sometime after midday to finish their initiation. By now, many had already defected out of fear and stood in a loose semi-circle around the rest. Several of them held guns to discourage their colleagues from acting up but these rookies looked like they couldn’t even throw a proper punch. Amongst them stood Ruki and Kai, and Heath noticed with a smile that Kai was slowly but surely developing a nice black eye to go with the broken nose he’d given Reita last night.

“I’m not asking you again. Are you with us or not?”

The man sitting on the floor before him calmly looked up, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Eat my ass and balls.”

Kaoru motioned at Kyo and the shorter man pulled the trigger and they moved onto the next.

“What about you?”

Wide-eyed, their next target watched Aoi and Uruha dragging his friend’s limp body away by the wrists to join the others who had refused to submit to Kaoru, and he paled visibly when the muzzle of Kyo’s gun nudged him in the head. He licked his lips and swallowed. “Y-yes,” he whispered.

“Get up.” Kyo motioned at him with the gun.

The young man kept his hands up and his eyes down. Whether he was too afraid to meet Kaoru’s gaze, or too humiliated to look at his fellow clan members who awaited their turn, he couldn’t say. Two others soon joined him, all hanging their heads.

“You little bastards. You should be ashamed.”

All heads turned, and Kaoru tilted his head in the direction of the speaker: Masaru, an older clan member who had followed Sakurai for most of his life. Kyo dragged him out of the mob and forced him onto his knees for all to see, and pressed the gun to his temple.

“You’re a disgrace to everything your uncle stood for, Kaoru,” Masaru growled. “A little shit like you has no place here. Everyone knows you were disowned. You’ll never win the respect of the clan.”

Kaoru sneered back. “Great leaders don’t become great by winning anyone’s respect. They do it by disposing of anyone who stands in their way.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. People followed Sakurai because he treated them with respect.”

“The greatest leaders have always broken the rules. Sakurai was soft. He probably spent most of his life sucking up to his oyabun, licking the old man’s boots. Karigari didn’t rise to where we are—”

“There is no ‘we’ here, you’re not one of us—”

“— _didn’t rise to where we are_ just to grow weak and bloated off the back of some fucking hostess clubs and and pachinko parlours. Real power is when people are too afraid to fuck with you.”

Masaru lifted his chin defiantly. “The small guys you have over there might be afraid of you, but I know who you really are: just the angry little boy who got beaten up by daddy and had no friends, and—”

Kaoru snatched the gun out of Kyo’s hand. “You shut the fuck up,” he snarled and cocked the hammer on the gun… and stopped. “What’s that?”

Everybody fell silent. Someone’s phone was ringing, and it was coming from one of the vans. It was almost comical to hear something so ordinary, so ‘everyday’, during such a tense battle of wills.

“Kyo!” Kaoru shouted. “Are you going to fucking get that or what?”

Kyo looked irritated at having been snapped at like that, but he said nothing and retrieved the phone from the van. He gazed down at it quizzically before raising the phone to his ear. “Who is this?”

There was a short pause and then on the other end, an unfamiliar voice spoke: “You tell me.”


	7. Chapter 7

When Pata pushed him out of the van, Taiji landed awkwardly on his back, smacking his head on the road and knocking the wind out of him. He had no way to brace or break his fall onto the asphalt and gravel, but the first thing he did was wrench himself around, just in time to see the van’s tail lights disappear around a bend in the road with the rear doors swinging wildly and the unmistakable flash and bang of a gun going off inside. Breathing hard, he rolled over onto his side and eased himself up onto his knees until he was able to stand up. He had to get away from here before they turned the van around to pick him back up. Ignoring the dizziness and dull pain in his head, he looked around and slipped away into the night for a very long walk.

He shivered and hunched his shoulders up. All he had was a weathered denim jacket over a t-shirt, and one of the sleeves was torn open from his fall. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do; he wasn’t even sure where he was. All he knew was that he was at least an hour’s drive out of Tokyo, somewhere between there and Ibaraki. Walking home was out of the question, of course; even if he didn’t get lost somewhere along the way, it would take fucking forever. He knew that Sugizo had been out on an assignment, but Taiji had no wallet, no phone, and no way of contacting him. It wasn’t like he could just walk up to someone and ask if he could borrow their phone, or ask for a lift back to Tokyo, either, not with the way he looked right now, all banged up with his hands locked behind his back. Hell, they’d probably call the cops on him and then they’d all be royally screwed.

Every time he heard the crunch of gravel under car tyres, or the sound of an engine, or saw headlights, he’d duck into another street or slip into the shadows. At one point he was positive that he’d been caught when a large vehicle rolled down the one-way street with its headlights trained on him; he squeezed himself up against the side of a vending machine and held his breath when the vehicle rumbled past.

“Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving,” Taiji muttered under his breath, watching the vehicle out of the corner of his eye.

It was a white van similar to the ones they’d been dragged away in, but the side bore the logo for a national drycleaning chain. He slowly let out a sigh of relief. Fuck, this sneaking around bullshit was exhausting; he had to have been walking around blindly for ages and now he was _really_ lost in the maze of tiny residential streets and dead ends. Eventually he spent the night curled up beside a dumpster like a homeless person. It had been a long time since he’d had to do that.

He jumped when someone on a scooter drove past and woke him up the next morning. Cursing to himself, he reached up to rub his eyes and swore again when his wrists were caught by his handcuffs, still locked in place. He looked around for something to pick the lock, but all he found were a few stray bottle caps and cigarette butts. He was freezing cold and hungry, and he desperately wanted a shower and a change of clothes, but he got up on stiff, weary legs and kept walking. At least he would warm up a little if he kept moving.

Things looked better in the light of day but his situation had not improved. In fact, it was probably worse now that he was surrounded by people in broad daylight with his hands trapped behind his back. A number of people gave him odd looks, and he found himself consciously pulling the sleeves of his jacket down to try and hide the handcuffs. He wandered along all day, looking for road signs pointing to Tokyo, doing his best to ignore the cold and the hunger. Every now and then he’d duck into a department store and pretend to browse the shelves, just to get out of the cold. Then when night fell, he was back onto the streets.

Just when he was bracing himself about spending another night in the open, the loud roar of an engine cut through the quiet and he turned to see a dark purple RX-8 speeding up the road, blasting American R&B from its speakers, oblivious to the lone pedestrian walking around at this hour. Minutes later he heard the unmistakable skittering whistle of a turbo, and a gunmetal GT86 painted with white and silver flames took off after the Mazda. Two of them; now that caught Taiji’s attention. He cracked his neck a couple of times, feeling his tired joints pop and shift, and set off in the same direction, the buckles on his boots jingling like spurs in a Western movie.

He didn’t see any more cars but after he’d trudged on for several blocks—mostly uphill—he could hear them in the distance: people cheering and whistling and yelling, the deep roars and snarls of heavily-modified cars revving, hard rock music so loud, he could feel the kick drums and bass guitar punching through his ribs. Nobody noticed or cared when he joined the crowd of onlookers and gradually elbowed his way through. There were cars and people everywhere and he reached the front of the pack in time to see a yellow NSX and a black Skyline tear away from the start line in a cloud of blue tyre smoke.

Trying to ignore the excited crowd jostling him in all directions, Taiji scanned the cars and the faces, looking for somebody that he might know, but there were probably a couple of hundred people here all milling about the finely-tuned cars with expensive body kits and spoilers and custom paint jobs, aftermarket sound systems with thumping subwoofers, all kinds of pulsing lights, girls in tiny skirts and long jackets, people dancing, drinking, kissing, and a loud chorus of cheers went up when the two cars came screaming around the corner, the NSX ahead by half a car’s length. The drivers congratulated each other, thick wads of cash changed hands, and two new competitors rolled up.

The car closest to Taiji was a cherry red BMW with a stock spoiler and chrome rims driven by a kid who couldn’t be more than a day over 19 looking very much out of his depth, clutching the steering wheel with both hands and glancing around a lot. Taiji smirked to himself; the kid had been matched against an older, more experienced driver in a black and red RX-7 that was a far cry from what it used to be when it had first left the dealership. This guy had one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel and he flipped the kid in the BMW a confident, easy smile; Taiji shouted his name but it was lost amongst the rest of the noise so he gave up. The drivers revved their engines hard to get the crowd worked up and they basked in the attention, the RX-7 spitting hot blue and orange flames from the exhaust, and both cars looked like wild animals snarling and clawing at the ground.

There was no contest, really. A disappointed cry went up from the spectators when the kid fishtailed badly off the line and by the time he’d regained control, the RX-7 had already disappeared around the first bend, building up a lead that would be impossible for the less experienced driver to make up. At the finish line, the driver of the RX-7 waited patiently for the other car and extended a hand amid the screaming mob.

“Good race!”

The kid slapped some cash into the older man’s hand and gave a sullen shrug. “It was awful.”

“So you blew your start, big deal. You’ll get there with a bit more practice. It’s all about experience.” He gave the kid an encouraging clap on the shoulder and another man stepped forward to speak to the winner.

This was his chance. Taiji broke away from the mob and shouldered his way through the tight cluster of people.

“Hey, watch it!” A guy with his arm around an extremely well-endowed brunette gave Taiji a very dirty look, but Taiji ignored him and elbowed past.

“Karyu!” he yelled.

The guy talking to Karyu glanced at Taiji for a second before turning back to the winner and handing him what looked like a business card. “Think about it, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, Kirito.”

“ _KARYU!_ ”

The tall, lanky driver was about to get back into his car when he finally spotted Taiji, and his face broke into an easy smile. “Taiji! What are you doing here? I always thought you were more of a muscle car guy. Let me guess… Mustang? Viper?”

“Harley.”

“Ahh, of course,” Karyu said with a knowing smile, patting the hood of his car. “Well, if you’re in the market for one of these…”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping we could go somewhere and talk,” Taiji said, casting a furtive glance around. Nobody was paying attention to him. Good.

“Sure! Zero’s just left but I’m sure we can catch up to—”

Taiji shook his head. “No, I mean, can we _talk_?”

Karyu paused and looked at the older man properly for the first time. “You’re in rough shape. What happened?”

“No shit,” Taiji said. “You know the Karigari clan?”

“Sure. We do the rounds for them now and then.”

“Their oyabun’s dead.”

“Yeah, we heard—”

“His nephew’s trying to take over and shit’s going down. They’ve got everyone except Sugizo and me.”

Karyu paused. “Oh.”

“Can you get me out of these?” Taiji turned around to show him the handcuffs.

“Yeah, I think so. Get in.”

For the first time in hours, Taiji felt like he could relax, even if it was impossible to sit comfortably. Karyu drove smoothly, just a touch under the speed limit to avoid jostling him too much and they pulled into a well-lit garage. They saw Zero first, under the hood of a black and white Supra. Next was Tsukasa, polishing a blue Evo. A pair of legs stuck out from underneath a white S2000; Hizumi, Taiji guessed.

“Boys, look at what I scraped up off the side of the road!” Karyu shouted, opening the door for Taiji to get out.

“Thought you guys ran taxis,” he grunted, nodding at the vehicles in the garage, all perfectly tuned and polished within an inch of their lives. Hell, with all the heavy modifications, he wasn’t even sure if they were road legal.

“Sure we do,” Karyu said, grinning and holding up a bundle of cash. “Second-best way to launder money, next to pachinko parlours, and we get a pretty nice cut. Better money than running chop shops.”

“I’ll say,” Taiji said, eyeing Karyu’s RX-7. Whatever he’d done to the car had to have cost a lot.

Karyu rummaged about in a tin of scrap metal for something to pick the handcuffs with. It took a few tries and the cuffs sprang loose; Taiji sighed with relief, rolled his shoulders a couple of times, flexed his wrists, opened and closed his fists. “Thanks. Got anything to eat or drink? I’m fucking starving.”

“Sorry, we ate most of it already. There’s some yakisoba but it’s probably—”

Taiji snatched up the plastic container and began shovelling the stone cold noodles into his face. Hizumi rolled out from underneath his car, wiping his greasy hands on a rag and getting a good look at Taiji for the first time. “Holy fuck. You look like shit. Fall off your bike?”

“On the run,” Taiji grunted with his mouth full of food. “Now that Sakurai Ao is dead, Kaoru’s gone all rogue alpha male.” He stopped to wash down his dinner with some beer and coughed when it all got jammed in his throat. “They’ve got all of our guys except me and Sugizo.”

“Crap.” Tsukasa lifted Taiji’s arm up to the light, leading him over to the sink to flush out the worst of his scrapes and bandaging him up. “What are you going to do?”

Taiji helped himself to another beer and a piece of leftover fried chicken. “Well. The first thing that Sugizo is probably going to do is go back to Ginza. I need to find him before those fucknuts find us.”


	8. Chapter 8

There was no caller ID on the phone when Kyo retrieved it from the van, but he answered the call all the same. “Who is this?”

There was a pause on the other end. “You tell me.”

“Huh.” Kyo’s eyes narrowed for a second and he glanced at Kaoru. “You’re one of _them_ , aren’t you?”

“Who are you? What have you done to them?”

Kaoru snatched the phone out of Kyo’s hand. “Sakurai Ao’s empire belongs to me now. We have your boss and all of your friends. I’ll make you a deal.”

“Go fuck yourself, cunt.”

“You bring Miya and his boys to me, and you get your mates back. All six of them for the price of Miya’s four. That’s a pretty generous trade, don’t you think?”

When Sugizo arrived home earlier that afternoon, Heath was not there. His first thought was that Heath had gone to work early, but when he drove to Extasy, Sugizo had found the place deserted. Shit. So they had everyone except himself. Sugizo gritted his teeth but remained calm. “Let me speak with Heath.”

“You don’t get to set the conditions here. We know you know where they are. Bring Miya to us and then we can talk.”

“ _Let me speak with Heath_.”

Kaoru sighed and lazily pointed the gun at them. “Which one of you is Heath?”

The thin one who had broken Reita’s nose glared up at him. “ _I’m_ Heath, asshole.”

Hearing Heath giving them lip made Sugizo smile until he heard a thump and a short grunt of pain. “Don’t you fucking touch him—”

“Get the fuck off—”

“Fucking bastard!”

“Heath!”

“Let him go!”

There was a cacophony of shouting from several people and it was impossible to tell who was who and what was happening or what was being said, and finally someone was yelling for everybody to shut up.

Kaoru held a gun to Heath’s head. “Tell him to bring Miya here.”

Heath ground his teeth and his hands clenched into fists. Singled out like this with his wrists cuffed together, and unarmed against at least one gun, his chances of fighting back were not good. When he glanced down over the rail, he saw six or seven bodies decorating the little garden far below him with their heads and limbs askew. He wasn’t keen to join them.

“Tell him!” Kyo shouted.

Heath flinched when the gun went off in the air. He licked his lips and tasted blood.

“If you don’t spit it out, we’re going to have one less to trade!” Kaoru gave him a shove for emphasis and Kyo grabbed his hair so hard that it hurt.

On the other end of the phone, Sugizo sat frozen in his seat, listening to those dickless bastards threatening Heath. The sound of the gunshot had been physically painful, even just over the phone.

“If you don’t spit it out, we’re going to have one less to trade!” one of them shouted.

“Okay! Okay. I’ll talk.”

Sugizo clenched his jaw. “If you hurt him, I swear to fucking god—”

“Sugizo?” Heath sounded breathless and frantic.

“Yeah. I’m here.” Sugizo felt like his heart had crawled into his throat. He fought to keep his breathing steady. “I’m here.”

“Sugizo.” Another grunt of pain and some heavy breathing, “Sugizo, Taiji got away—”

The last thing Sugizo heard was another cry of pain and more shouting and indiscernible noises and the call went dead.

The hand holding his phone tightened and then dropped into his lap. All he could think of was them all being held at gunpoint, of Heath bleeding, dying or even dead—no, now was not the time to be losing his cool or doing anything rash.

  
  


It was strange being here in the empty bar alone. It was eerie, sort of like visiting a ghost town or one of those haunted house-themed escape rooms that hide had nagged them all about constantly until he and Heath had eventually given in to humour him. He walked around slowly, looking around, looking for clues. The heavy back door was usually deadlocked from the inside but Sugizo found it ajar, and on the floor was a little pile of dust and splinters. He looked up and squinted. It was hard to make out in the dim light but it looked like someone had fired a gun in here. Other than that, he couldn’t see any signs of a struggle; nothing broken, no blood, although doors that were normally closed had been left wide open. Somebody had searched the place.

Sugizo looked inside Yoshiki’s office next. Again, the door was open and his chair was pushed back, away from the desk. Yoshiki was known to be fastidious about many things and he _always_ pushed his chair in when he wasn’t using it. Sugizo sat down in the chair and looked around, opened and closed a couple of the drawers, but nothing looked remotely interesting or out of place.

 _Taiji got away_.

The obvious thing to do would be to find Taiji, but he had no way of knowing where the man was, and if those bastards had Heath’s phone, they would have everyone else’s phones as well. It wasn’t like he could just jump in the car and drive around, hoping to find Taiji wandering about. At this rate he might actually have to take Miya and the boys to Ibaraki and try to fight their way back out.

Before he could mull on this any further, he heard a soft noise, like door hinges squeaking from the front of the bar. He reached back for his gun—shit! How could he have left it in his car? Thinking quickly, he dropped to his knees and swallowed a sigh of relief. Of course Yoshiki would keep a gun mounted to the underside of his desk. Sugizo eased the weapon out of its holster, gingerly cocked the hammer and winced when it made a gentle _click_. He switched the lights off, keeping his back pressed flat against the wall and his breathing light and shallow, heard the floorboards creak, waiting for the intruder to round the corner and he seized the man’s arm to twist it behind his back, but the other guy fought back with the reflexes of a seasoned professional and the gun went off when a fist connected with Sugizo’s face so hard it made his head spin. Fuck, this guy was strong but Sugizo ducked the second punch that went straight into the wall, grappled his arm and hurled him against the desk. The other guy grunted and quickly recovered his balance, throwing Sugizo over the desk, scattering pens and papers onto the floor and Sugizo picked himself up just in time to see a huge, dark shape bearing down on him and he slithered out from underneath the heavy old desk before the guy could smash it against his skull. Honour among thieves? Fuck that. He went for a cheap but satisfying kick to the groin that sent his opponent reeling to the floor and Sugizo was upon him in a second, pinning him down with one hand around his throat and the other hand wound back to punch him and he finally got a good look at—

“Jesus!”

“Fuck me!”

Sugizo let go of Taiji’s neck and scrambled off him, leaning heavily against the wall as he slowly got to his feet, groping for the light switch, his heart hammering away from the adrenaline. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

Taiji let out a hoarse cough and glared up at him, squinting a little in the sudden brightness of the room. “Why didn’t _you_ say something, you fucking moron?” he snapped.

“I thought you were one of _them_!” Sugizo looked around in dismay. The office was a mess. He sighed. “Shit. Yoshiki’s going to kill us.”

Taiji just grunted and rolled over, curling up on the floor. The older man looked all beaten up, and not just from their little tussle.

Sugizo cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell happened to you?”

Taiji gritted his teeth and screwed up his face. “I think you crushed my testicles.”

* * *

“So how come they didn’t get you?”

In the passenger seat of Sugizo’s car, Taiji fiddled with the radio. Ads, ads, ads, there were so fucking many ads. No wonder he never listened to the radio. It was full of banal pop songs performed by attractive, enthusiastic twenty-year olds who couldn’t sing without autotune; radio talk show hosts who were probably paid far too much to sit in a booth and talk about nothing; and so many goddamn freaking ads. He gave up and switched it off when he couldn’t find a station that he liked.

“They didn’t get me,” Taiji said. “Because Pata pushed me out of a moving vehicle.”

Sugizo laughed.

“Hurt like a motherfucker when I fell out…” Taiji showed Sugizo the bandage covering the big, raw scrape on his arm through the hole torn in his sleeve. “Anyway, I took off and wandered around for a day and a night until I found a pack of street racers. You know Karyu?”

“Yeah.”

“He and the boys got me cleaned up and out of my cuffs, and Tsukasa dropped me off here. Then I thought, shit, what if Kaoru’s cronies are all in here? Turns out it was just you.”

Sugizo eased the car to a stop at the lights. “I spoke with Heath.”

“You did? When?”

“When I got there and saw that everyone was gone, I called him. Someone else picked up, I think it was that little fuckhead Kyo. They said some bullshit about a trade. Miya’s four for our six.”

“Six?”

“Yeah. That’s what they said.”

“Nice bluff.”

“Heath told me you’d gotten away, and then they…” He trailed off then, and for a while the only sound was the throaty rumble of the GT-R’s engine and the occasional passing car.

“If they’ve hurt him,” Sugizo said very quietly. “I’m going to fuck them up until they piss blood.”

Taiji had no illusions of the lengths that Heath would go to for Sugizo; they had all seen the normally reserved, softly-spoken Heath almost beat a man to death with his bare hands and right now, Sugizo was no different. On the surface, he looked stonily calm but a second look showed it all: the steely glare, the tightly-clenched jaw, the tense muscles standing out in his neck, the deliberate rise and fall of his chest as though it were taking a great deal of effort just to keep his breathing under control. His hands held the steering wheel in a strangling grip, wringing it every now and then as though he might snap it in two.

Taiji cleared his throat carefully. “D’you want me to drive?”

“What? No.”

“You seem kind of distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Sugizo said shortly. He could still hear the sound of the gunshot reverberating inside his head.

“Listen to me. Heath will be fine.”

Sugizo just kept on glowering at the road.

“It’s a cheap scare tactic. You know that. It’s the oldest trick in the book. They start killing their bargaining chips and they don’t get shit.” The older man shifted in his seat and stretched out his legs. ”I get why you’re worried, but you don’t need to be. We’ll get Heath and the others back. You and I will make sure of it.”

Sugizo said nothing. He hoped he was right. He drove on in silence for a while and thought about what Taiji had said. The man wasn’t in the habit of calling Heath by his name; it was usually ‘kid’ or ‘the skinny one’ or some other mildly condescending nickname. He wasn’t sure if Taiji had noticed, but Sugizo did.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“Mm?” Taiji grunted.

“Why do you care?”

“Huh?”

“Well... I know you and Heath haven’t always gotten along, so…”

For a long time, Taiji didn’t say anything and as he drove on, Sugizo started to think that maybe he didn’t want to say.

“When I first met Heath, I seriously thought hide had picked him up from a host club or some shit. He was just this skinny pretty boy who looked like he’d faint at the sight of blood. No way would he survive in Tokyo’s underworld. And he can be such a closed book, I couldn’t figure him out. You got any smokes?”

Wordlessly, Sugizo opened the centre console and Taiji muttered a thanks. He lit a cigarette and opened the window to let the smoke out.

“So Yoshiki signed him on and we put him through the wringer with his training. It didn’t matter how many times I beat the crap out of him, he wouldn’t stay down. He did it on purpose to piss me off. Little prick.”

Taiji muttered the last two words under his breath as an afterthought and in spite of himself, Sugizo had to laugh. Of course Taiji would think that.

“Anyway, after all that shit that went down with you at first, I got to know Heath a little bit better and, well… turns out he and I aren’t so different after all.”

“How so?”

“Normal people have normal jobs and normal lives, right? Look at us. All of us. We’re all fucked up in some way or another. That’s why we do what we do.” Taiji took a short puff of his cigarette and gave Sugizo a sideways look. “Heath lost someone close to him, didn’t he.”

It wasn’t really a question and Taiji clearly knew that he was right. Sugizo saw no point in denying it, but he wasn’t prepared to divulge something that Heath kept so close to himself, either. Instead, he asked, “How can you tell?”

Taiji just scoffed to himself lightly and looked away, flicking the ash off his cigarette. “’Cause I’m fucked up in the same way.”

At the next set of lights, Sugizo glanced over at Taiji slouched in the passenger seat. The harsh lines on his face were softer and he absently reached up to push away the messy, bleached blond hair blowing across his eyes. He was the kind of person who was always wary, always had his guard up, but right now, just for a second, he looked older, tired and world-weary, and in the chinks of his armour Sugizo caught a glimpse of someone who had been broken over and over again. He held the cigarette in his right hand, between his index finger and the shortened middle finger, and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out through the open window.

“Who did you lose?” Sugizo asked softly.

He expected Taiji to snap at him and tell him to mind his own business, or deflect with some sort of smartass remark and skirt around the matter entirely, but the older man just gazed out the window as if he hadn’t heard. 

“Does it have anything to do with your hand?” It was something Sugizo had always been curious about, but wasn’t sure if Taiji would take offense to being asked about something so personal. He had asked the others in passing, but they either didn’t know or didn’t let on that they knew.

But Taiji only took another long drag of his cigarette and exhaled very slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on a spot far off in the distance. “It happened when I was young and stupid. Maybe I’ll tell you one day. Anyway,” he said abruptly, straightening up in his seat. “Don’t tell the skinny one I said any of this. Don’t want him thinking I’m soft or nothin’.”

* * *

“Hit me.”

Satochi drew a card from the deck and placed it in front of Yukke, face-down, and the blond picked it up and added it to his hand.

Yukke threw his cards down onto the floor with a look of disgust. A Queen and two sevens.

“I win!” Satochi cheered, placing his two cards face up to reveal his total of 18.

The four of them froze when they heard a quiet knock at the door and Tatsurou glanced at Miya. “Expecting anyone?”

“No.” Miya slowly got to his feet. He hadn’t heard anything from Yoshiki after Ken Lloyd had made the delivery. The knocking came again; he reached for one of the freshly-loaded guns and padded across the room, resting a hand on the doorknob. “Who is it?”

“It’s us, Miya.”

“Who’s us?”

“Taiji and Sugizo.”

Miya hesitated. “Prove it.”

A harried grumble came from the other side of the door. “Fuck, I don’t know! Is there supposed to be a password? I can’t remember shit ever since that time Sakura broke a bottle on my fucking skull.”

Then a second voice: “I swear to god it gets worse every time you tell that story. It wasn’t that bad, stop exaggerating.”

“You weren’t even there!”

Grinning to himself, Miya opened the door and ushered them inside. “What are you doing here?”

Taiji kicked off his boots and lay down on the floor with a tired groan. “Kyo and some of his guys came in and grabbed us. They’ve got Yoshiki and the others. Nearly got me, too.”

“Fuck!” Miya ran his hands through his hair and stomped across the room. “I _knew_ something like this would happen. Where are they?”

“From what Kaoru said, it sounds like they were taken back to Ibaraki,” Sugizo said.

“When Kaoru couldn’t get Yoshiki to give you up, they swooped in and grabbed us,” Taiji said. “Sugizo wasn’t there, and Pata helped me get away, but apparently they want to ‘trade’.”

Miya was shaking his head slowly at all this. “So take us to them and we can end this.”

“Miya,” Sugizo said. “Getting you killed isn’t going to help.”

“They’ve got your people, and Kiyoshi and Sakura and a bunch of others are dead.”

“They’re dead because of Kaoru.”

“Well now that we know what needs to be done, let’s go.”

“How did this all start?” Sugizo asked. “Why is Kaoru so hell bent on getting his hands on you?”

Miya took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You know that Kaoru was Sakurai’s nephew, right? He was the designated heir of Karigari but he started fucking with company business and then…” Miya reached for his cigarettes but Tatsurou snatched the pack up and flung it across the room.

“Tats—!” he fumed, but Taiji rapped his knuckles on the table to get his attention.

“Then what?”

Miya gritted his teeth. “I was there when it happened. Sakurai demanded yubitsume and then excommunicated him. I shouldn’t have been there, but… now that Sakurai’s gone, anyone who won’t recognise Kaoru as oyabun has a target on their head.”

Sugizo sighed and shook his head, and Taiji muttered, “Fuck’s sake.”

“I knew we’d be bringing danger to you but I had no idea it would be like this,” Miya went on. “And after all the shit Toshi’s been through, he _really_ doesn’t need this.”

“What do you think is going to happen with the clan?” Sugizo asked.

Miya hesitated, thinking. “I’m not really sure what the protocol is, but if Sakurai’s highest-ranking officers are still alive, they’d need to read his will. After what happened at his funeral, nobody even had a chance to challenge Kaoru for leadership.”

Tatsurou nodded. “And shit is really going to go down if rival clans end up fighting each other to take over the territory.”

“This is our vendetta, not yours. We should never have gotten you involved.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Yoshiki and the others are worth more to them alive than dead. If they start taking lives, all bets are off.” Taiji got up and wandered over to the window. Beneath the streetlights, Sugizo’s car gleamed. When it came to wheels, Taiji had always preferred two to four, but that damn GT-R could take off like a scalded rabbit. He slowly turned back to Miya. “Are you any good at driving?”


	9. Chapter 9

hide was complaining again.

At first he was complaining on and off about the absurdity of the whole situation: why were they caught up in this mess, anyway? This whole thing was stupid. They weren’t Yakuza. Then a strong gust of wind had taken his hat. This had made him very unhappy and everybody had to hear about it. Then he’d complained about being cold, or hungry, or thirsty. He’d whine about needing to sleep, or how much his ass hurt from sitting on concrete for so long. The guys keeping watch over them would yell at him to shut up, and he would, for a little while, only to start up ten or twenty minutes later. At least seeing them holding Heath at gunpoint had him on his best behaviour for a while, even after they sat him back down, very sore and with a broken, bloody lip.

“God, I need a smoke,” hide moaned.

“Hey!” Aoi barked.

“I haven’t had one in more than 24 hours!”

“Shut up.”

“I will if you give me a cig.”

“Shut up!”

“A proper one, not that light menthol shit.”

Ruki got up and grabbed hide by the hair. “Shut. Up.”

hide lunged at him and laughed when Ruki snatched his arm away. “Which do you prefer? My bark or my bite?”

Toshi was itching for a smoke as well, but he chose to grit his teeth and bear it. Not for the first time, he thought about how glad he was that Pata had pushed Taiji out of their van. He could only imagine how goddamn annoying it would be to have to listen to hide _and_ Taiji bitching and moaning.

hide sighed heavily and glanced at the others. To his left, Pata and Heath were sitting there quietly on the hard concrete ground. Pata looked ready to nod off. Heath kept worrying his broken lip in much the same way people feel compelled to pick at scabs, and his brow was slightly furrowed.

“Heath. Are you hurt?”

Heath just gave him a reassuring smile and shook his head. “I’m alright.”

hide wasn’t sure what else he expected. Heath could be sitting there with a broken neck and he would say that he was fine. He turned to his right. “Are we seriously just going to sit here and wait for something to happen?”

“Taiji and Sugizo know where we are,” Yoshiki said. “At least one of them will be able to come and find us.”

“How do you figure? Kaoru’s not going to settle for a clean trade and I don’t know about you, but I _really_ don’t feel like getting shot today, or ever.”

Yoshiki had been thinking about this ever since they arrived here. hide was right, of course. Taiji and Sugizo were exceptionally skilled, but skill only goes so far against numbers. Even if they weren’t all armed and few were loyal, Kaoru and Kyo had a few dozen men at their beck and call. On the off-chance that the five of them were freed, they wouldn’t stand a chance if it came to an all-out brawl, especially not Toshi. But maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Masaru had been right when he said that Kaoru would never win the respect of his peers. When Yoshiki watched Kaoru at work, there was no plan, no structure, no big picture. Organised crime was exactly that: _organised_ crime. Without rules and structure, and without strong leader figures, organised crime was just crime.

In the time that they had spent in here, they had seen Kaoru frightening the inexperienced into joining him, but he had alienated or otherwise killed the older, more experienced clan members who actually understood how things worked. There was no structure beyond the crude pecking order of Kaoru being the leader and Kyo a distant second in charge. They had poached people from other Yakuza clans and organised crime sects alike, people who were overconfident, idealistic, untried, but they couldn’t bring them together. There was no unity, no leadership, no mutual goal. In just a couple of days, a number of fights had already broken out between rivals. Even the guys who had been guarding the exit stairwell had snuck off when nobody was looking. Kaoru lacked the charisma to lead the pack, and finally he snapped at Kyo one too many times.

“No, I fucking—”

“Keep your voice down!”

Pata had dozed off on Heath’s shoulder but now he jerked awake and blinked several times, dazed.

Kyo was simmering with fury. “What do you expect me to do? I can’t _make_ them stay!”

“So round them up!” Kaoru snapped.

“You think I haven’t tried? Every time I turn around to grab one, another one sneaks off behind my back! I can’t do everything!”

“Whip them into line, kill them if you have to! That was what we said all along, wasn’t it? Anyone who isn’t with us isn’t worth having! They can die for all I care, just like the old bastard Sakurai!”

“I thought you were going to make this clan powerful again! I didn’t follow you to be your goddamn executioner!”

“And we will be powerful! We’re only just getting started!”

“Fuck that,” Kyo spat. “What have you done? Shot up a fucking funeral? Pushed people off the roof? You keep killing people and we’ll have nobody left. It was _my_ idea to go to that fucking bar and sweet talk Yoshiki—”

“Excuse me…”

“—it was _my_ idea to grab them if they refused to cooperate!”

“Uh, excuse me?”

Kaoru and Kyo stopped yelling at each other and all eyes turned to hide, who smiled back at them sheepishly and gave them a little wave with his cuffed hands. “Sorry. May I go to the bathroom?”

Kyo stared at him. “What?”

“The bathroom. I really need to go.”

“What the f—”

“I haven’t been since we got here!”

Kaoru let out an aggravated sigh and rubbed his temples. “Kyo, go with him.”

“But—!”

“I said go with him!” Kaoru barked. “Take one of the boys with you and walk this moron to the fucking can.”

For a second Kyo looked like he was going to argue, but then he set his jaw, snapped his fingers at Uruha, and together they helped hide to his feet.

“Thanks, I really appreciate this.” hide smiled broadly as Uruha pushed the men’s room door open. “I just need to take a piss, I’ll be _real_ quick.”

Kyo lit a cigarette. “Go inside with him, Uruha. I’ll stay out here.”

Uruha looked offended but he couldn’t bring himself to object, so he bowed his head and followed hide inside.

“Mind undoing these?” hide asked, holding out his hands.

“No fucking way,” Uruha said gruffly.

“But how will I wipe?”

“I thought you only needed to piss?”

“Yes but—”

“So just whip it out and shake it like everyone else does!” Uruha snapped and gave him a push toward the nearest urinal.

hide grumbled. “Can you at least turn around? I can’t go if I feel like someone’s watching.”

The other man pursed his lips and turned his back to hide, muttering under his breath. hide fumbled to undo his pants and heaved a long, relaxed sigh.

“That feels sooo good,” he said loudly. “Can’t be good for you to hold it in for so long. What if you burst?”

“Just shut up and finish. I don’t need your fucking commentary.” Uruha sounded distracted and hide stole a glance at him. He was digging through his pockets.

“You seem stressed,” hide remarked, carefully zipping himself back up and flushing.

He took a very long time washing his hands, helping himself to plenty of soap, humming a tune with the occasional rattle from his handcuffs. Over the sound of running water, he heard a rapid tapping noise followed by a loud sniff and he looked over again.

Bent over the bathroom counter, Uruha was snorting a line of cocaine from the surface of a small mirror. He scrunched up his face as the fine powder prickled and fizzed; he rubbed his nose, sighed heavily and repeated the ritual. This was some really good shit. It hit him almost immediately, an intense burst of energy and pleasure and lightness that radiated through him, and the stress of the past few days and weeks dulled to a pale grey. He braced his hands against the edge of the bathroom counter and stood up straight, tilting his head back, breathing deeply. He felt fucking amazing, just before a cold, wet length of chain dug into his throat.

Uruha clawed his neck in an attempt to free himself, hands scrabbling wildly looking for anything to fight off his attacker, tried to scream but hide used his whole body to keep him trapped against the counter, all the while choking him hard. A series of short, shallow gasps left Uruha’s throat as he fought to breathe. The chain between the handcuffs was short, no more than about four inches, but with enough force it would be more than enough to damage the delicate throat cartilage. It seemed to take forever, though, and hide’s arms were beginning to tire, but the lack of air got to Uruha first and his hands fell limp. hide held on for a little while longer for good measure and let Uruha slowly crumple onto the floor under his own weight.

Kyo looked about restlessly and lit a cigarette. He took a couple of quick puffs and banged his fist on the bathroom door. “Uruha! What’s he doing in there, laying a cable? Hurry the fuck up.”

The door clicked open and Kyo froze. “Don’t move, fucker.”

* * *

Pata was beginning to worry about hide. Sure, he hadn’t been gone that long, but it was too long for a simple trip to the bathroom. Like Taiji, he had a tendency to cause trouble if he felt like it, and he could get _very_ annoying. Pata ran through the possible scenarios in his head. They already had him earmarked as a troublemaker and it wouldn’t take much for them to get fed up with his crap. Had hide opened his big mouth and said something stupid and gotten himself beaten up or killed? That seemed like the most likely possibility. Or had he tried to get away from his bathroom escorts and if so, had he gotten away or had they chased him down? What if he was lying on the floor of the bathroom in a pool of his own blood? Heath glanced at Pata. He was thinking the same thing, too.

A murmur gradually rose from the gathering of would-be Karigari members and Pata craned his neck, trying to see what was so interesting, and there were scattered shouts of Kyo’s name and _what the fuck_ s and, above the other voices, was hide shouting at people to back off. People began to scatter and they could finally see a defeated-looking Kyo with his arms up, hands clasped behind his head. Behind him was hide, holding a gun to his jaw.

Worried onlookers glanced between Kyo and Kaoru. They knew that Kaoru and Kyo were close. Surely their leader would step in to free his friend.

“What are you doing?” Kaoru asked with forced politeness.

hide tilted his head at where his friends were gathered. “You’re gonna let them go.”

“No.”

“Let them go or I’ll empty this shit into him!” hide cocked the hammer on the gun.

“Where’s Uruha?” Aoi cried, dismayed. “Did you kill him?”

“Undo their cuffs,” hide ordered.

Aoi and Ruki immediately moved to unlock Yoshiki and Toshi’s handcuffs, but Kaoru ordered them to stop, and they froze where they were.

“Hey!” hide barked.

Kyo gritted his teeth. “Kaoru…”

“Do it,” Kaoru said. “Go on, kill him. You kill him and I’ll kill your friends, simple as that.”

A deafening gunshot rang out in the concrete parking lot, drowning out an agonised scream and Kyo’s leg buckled. He clutched at the bleeding wound and squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth hard. “Kaoru, what the fuck!”

hide smiled. “I’m not fucking joking.”

But Kaoru merely raised his gun at Yoshiki. “Neither am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not my favourite chapter but I've had a good couple of weeks of slow but steady writing on my 2-year old 'problem child' project and I'm feeling good! To anyone else struggling with writer's block: we've got each other's backs!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [I'm like a bird in a cage & U too](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1RTtc8FVTmG80JKKAtCSJ9WRJO5kCSE6_/view?usp=sharing)  
> Artist: The Micro Head 4N's  
> 

“I’m not fucking joking.”

hide had no qualms about shooting Kyo in the leg as a warning to the rest of them, but all Kaoru did was raise his gun at Yoshiki.

“Neither am I.”

Blood spurted from Yoshiki’s arm and he doubled over, trying not to scream, trying to deny them the satisfaction, but Kaoru knew. He knew by the way his face contorted in pain, saw it in the way his jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck strained, by the frantic worry on his friends’ faces, and Yoshiki bit back a groan when Kaoru dragged him to his feet in front of everybody, and the muzzle of his gun dug into the entry wound, harder and harder until he couldn’t hold it in any more and Yoshiki’s cry was drowned out by the roar of approaching vehicles, amplified by their concrete surroundings, and a red and black RX-7 burst up the entry ramp, and Kaoru stared at the headlights bearing down on him a second before the brakes screeched and he and Yoshiki were thrown upon the car’s hood. The rear passenger door was flung open and through the tyre smoke Pata saw Satochi leaning over and extending a hand toward Yoshiki, yelling at him to get in.

Four more beautiful cars roared up and beside him, Pata felt Heath tense up when he recognised Sugizo’s GT-R in an instant. hide wasted no time throwing the injured Kyo into the confused crowd and jumping into the nearest car and Hizumi floored it, leaving long black skid marks on the concrete; shots were already being fired and bullets thunked into cars and ricocheted off the concrete, and Yoshiki, hurt and groaning, dragged himself up enough for Satochi to pull him into the RX-7. Tatsurou, Yukke and Sugizo kept them covered with suppressive fire while Taiji yanked Pata to his feet, and the older man snatched the spare out from the passenger seat and ducked behind the Supra’s passenger door, laying down several shots and taking out a couple of guys before climbing into the car.

“They’re getting away, get your cars!” Kaoru was hurt but he grabbed Kyo and hauled him up, ignoring his groan of pain, practically dragging him to his car. “Get in your fucking cars and go after them!”

Kyo threw him off. “Go fuck yourself, Kaoru.”

Kaoru seized a handful of his hair and leaned in very close. “Get in,” he growled.

  
  


Sugizo slammed his car door shut; Heath snatched up his gun, ducked when two shots whined past his window and answered with four shots of his own before Sugizo threw the GT-R into reverse and spun it around to follow Karyu and Zero’s cars down the ramp amid gunfire from all directions. The rest of the cars burst out onto the streets of Ibaraki, weaving in and out of the evening traffic. All around them, light from streetlights and other cars’ headlights streamed past them.

A red MX-5 drew level with Zero and he locked eyes with Kai for just a second before the other car slammed sidelong into them. With Kai ramming him from the left, Zero had nowhere to go; he was practically on the tail of the taxi in front, and to his right was oncoming traffic. A head-on collision at this speed would be crippling at best, if not fatal.

“Hold on!” Zero yelled at Pata and Taiji. He skilfully drifted the car around the first right-hand turn he saw, threading right through the cars and ignoring the blaring horns from the other drivers and the crush of metal on metal behind them.

Karyu wove his way through traffic, scarcely staying in one lane for more than a few seconds when he could help it. He looked over his shoulder when Yoshiki gave a low groan. “Hey. You okay?”

“I’m shot,” Yoshiki said through gritted teeth. “And you hit me with a fucking car.”

“Hey, we got you outta there, didn’t we?” He grinned. “We’ll get you looked at, don’t worry.”

It was easy to spot the red and black RX-7 in traffic with its distinctive red lights beneath the chassis, but damned if Karyu wasn’t going to make it hard to follow him. He glanced in his wing mirror; Sugizo was behind him, and there was someone behind _him_.

“Better make that car sing, Sugizo.”

Heath swore when a shot glanced off the GT-R and Sugizo swerved. Some asshole in a Skyline was shooting at them. Ahead of them, the lights were red but Karyu didn’t stop. Sugizo glanced at both sides of traffic, glanced at the car behind them; beside him, Heath said in a low voice, “Do it.”

They were both slammed back into their seats and Heath winced with a grunt with pain when Sugizo floored the accelerator, speeding through a gap in the traffic, fighting the traction control, his heart thumping at how fast and close the oncoming traffic was, and not a split second later was a frighteningly loud crash. The Skyline had been hit. Sugizo’s hands felt sweaty but he kept himself under control and kept driving.

“Shit shit shit.” Tsukasa kept saying it over and over again. “Shit, fucking shit.”

Turning down this street was a mistake; up ahead was a long line of brake lights glowing bright red, almost dazzling. The traffic was waiting for the lights to turn green but Tsukasa could not afford to slow down or stop, not with whoever it was behind him.

Yukke licked his lips nervously. “Tsukasa.”

“Shut up and let him drive,” Tatsurou said in a low voice.

Tsukasa ignored them and kept driving, glancing left and right, front and back, and in the back, Toshi was thrown up against Yukke when Tsukasa pulled over into the oncoming lane at the very last second, clipping the tail of the car in front. An approaching car barely managed to swerve out of his way and Yukke stared at the other driver’s terrified face in the split second that the cars scraped against each other in a shower of orange sparks and screeching metal.

“Are you insane?” Yukke yelled. “You’re gonna fucking kill us!”

Toshi was holding onto the back of the driver’s seat with a white-knuckled grip. Tsukasa said nothing but his face was a mask of dogged determination, dodging in and out between oncoming cars until an opportunity presented itself and he squeezed through a gap in the next intersection. The car skidded dangerously and he fought to regain control, almost swerving into a fire hydrant when he tried to avoid hitting another car, but they had lost the guy who was chasing them for now.

“You’re gonna fucking kill us,” Yukke repeated. He had broken out in a cold sweat.

Tsukasa just kept driving.

Kyo ground his teeth. Every gear change was absolute agony on his leg but did his best to ignore the pain. He’d stripped off his overshirt and tied it on tight as a makeshift bandage but he couldn’t imagine it was doing much to help. In front of him was that asshole Miya, leaning out of the window of a white car, shooting at him. Kyo kept himself low over the wheel and when Miya stopped to reload, he answered with several shots of his own; most missed, one hit the tail. There was a sharp metallic clang and something bounced off the hood of his car; now that fucking pink-haired freak was shooting at him. If he could get Miya _and_ hide in one go, that would be the icing on the fucking cake. They wouldn’t get away this time and then Kaoru would have nothing to say. Kyo drove with one hand, groping around blindly for a fresh magazine, loaded it up and fired off shot after shot at the car in front of him. He hit the taillight, the rear, two shots pierced the glass and another shot made the pink-haired guy dive back inside the car, and Kyo saw his opening. Hizumi took a sharp left and Kyo floored it, smashing into the S2000’s rear and it swung around wildly as the driver tried to regain control and careening sidelong into a lamppost but Kyo was so preoccupied with the other car that he didn’t see the bright headlights until the truck hit him and his smaller, lighter car fairly bounced off the truck’s massive grille and spun off to the side.

In the back of the ruined S2000, Miya and hide stared at each other, hyperventilating, unable to grasp what had happened.

“Fuck—”

“What the fuck are you all right?”

“Fuck. I think so. Hizumi!”

No answer.

“Hizumi!” Miya unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned forward in his seat and shook the driver’s shoulder but Hizumi’s head lolled sickly to one side. His window was shattered where it made contact with whatever they had hit and there was blood all down one side of his face. “Fuck, Hizumi!”

hide scrambled to unbuckle his own seatbelt. “Fuck, is he—”

Miya kept screaming his name and shook him harder.

“Hey! Hey, stop Miya!” hide shouted.

“ _Hizumi!_ ”

“Don’t touch him!”

“We have to get him out, we have to help him—”

hide grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him out of the car, even as Miya struggled against him. “We don’t know how badly hurt he is! We could kill him if we move him.”

“I’m not fucking leaving him here!”

hide looked around and ran up to a nearby cop. “Hey! You! Call an ambulance!”

“I already have,” she said grimly. “They’ll be here in seven minutes.”

hide nodded gratefully and mouthed a _thank you_ to her.

“Miya, we have to _go_ ,” he urged.

A familiar voice yelled, “What happened?” and a black and white car skidded up to them, and hide shoved Miya into the back of the Supra with Pata.

“Where’s Hizumi, is he okay?” Zero shouted.

“Kyo hit his car, we have to go!”

“ _What?!_ ”

hide grabbed his shoulder. “An ambulance is coming but we have to go _now_ , Zero!”

  
  


For a long time, the only thing that Kyo could hear was the blood pounding in his ears, and his heart beat so hard that he could only manage to take in rapid, shallow breaths. He was running on so much adrenaline that his leg didn’t even hurt anymore. The chase was lost. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a knocking sound and a faraway voice shouting at him, but he couldn’t concentrate on the voice and the words failed to register. He just sat there staring straight ahead at the car’s crumpled hood through the silver, spidery cracks in the shattered windscreen. The chase was lost. He had failed.

“Fuck!” Ruki slammed on the brakes at the sight of the wreckage and flung open his car door. “Kyo! What happened!”

A man was tugging at the driver’s side door. “I don’t know if he can hear me!”

Ruki leaned over to look inside the car. Kyo was just sitting there. Aside from a cut on his forehead, he seemed all right. Ruki shouted his name but Kyo didn’t respond or even appear to have heard. Ruki shoved the man aside and tried the door himself but it was stuck.

“Kyo!” he yelled again, banging on the car.

Kyo blinked once and turned in his direction, staring at him hollowly, looking but not really seeing. Ruki tugged at the door again and this seemed to wake Kyo up. He grabbed the interior door handle and pushed hard, using his shoulder like a ram. It took a few tries but the door finally fell open and he staggered out into Ruki’s arms.

“Are you all right?” the man asked. “Do you need an ambulance?”

“They got away.”

“What?”

“They got away,” Kyo repeated. He was staring into empty space.

“We should go,” Ruki said. “They’re bound to go back to Tokyo. We should go back and tell Kaoru, we’ll get more people and—”

Kyo’s head snapped around. “What?”

Ruki floundered. “I… I said we should tell Kaoru and—”

Before he could finish, Kyo had pushed past them and staggered over to Ruki’s car. The door was open and the engine was still running, and Ruki watched, open-mouthed as their second in charge got in and drove off without another word.

  
  


“I think we lost them.” Sugizo was checking all the mirrors, looking around for any cars that might be coming for them, but it looked okay now.

“Yeah,” Heath said quietly.

“Can you squeeze out of your cuffs?”

“No. They’re too tight. Sugizo…” Heath grimaced. “I need to get to a hospital.”

“What’s wrong, are you okay?”

This was answered with a soft groan and Sugizo glanced over at him. Heath had squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip, his brow deeply furrowed and his shoulders were tense and hunched forward. Sugizo looked down; the intermittent orange glint of the street lights overhead catching on the shiny steel handcuffs was distracting and almost hypnotic, and it took a good few seconds for him to realise that, pressed against his side, Heath’s hands were covered in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole story was driven (heh) by two things: the introduction of street racers, and my desire to write an _Underneath_ story where Sugizo DOESN'T get shot for once lol.


	11. Chapter 11

“Calm down, sir. Please calm down.”

“How can I—”

“I understand that you’re worried, but you need to calm down. You’re upsetting everyone.” The tall hospital security guard stood in their way with his hands up. “Otherwise I’m going to have to ask you to leave, _or_ I can have you removed if you continue to be a disturbance.” To prove his point, the man reached for the radio clipped to the front of his navy blue security vest.

Tsukasa grasped Sugizo’s arm firmly and gave the big security guard a polite smile. “Sorry. My friend’s just upset. We’ll take him outside. Sorry, everyone!” Tsukasa smiled blithely and gave a half-hearted wave at the grey-haired nurse and the rest of the people in the emergency waiting room. Most were too afraid to make eye contact, pretending to be engrossed in their newspapers and magazines, but a few were staring at them and whispering amongst themselves.

The security guard frowned at Tsukasa and Sugizo but nodded, satisfied when the two of them retreated outside where the rest of their rough-looking group were waiting.

Outside, Sugizo shook off Tsukasa’s hand and stormed over to his car. The passenger door was still open and that was when he saw it: five bullet holes, two through the passenger door where Heath had been, and three in the rear door.

“FUCK!” Sugizo’s outburst resonated off the concrete in the otherwise quiet hospital entry loop.

Taiji touched his arm lightly and this was also shaken off. “What happened?”

“He didn’t tell me. He was fucking shot and he didn’t fucking tell me until we were out of the city.” Sugizo was struggling to keep his voice from cracking. “The stupid fucking idiot didn’t tell me because he _didn’t want me to worry_!”

“Hey,” Zero said. “He’s okay, isn’t he? You got him here.”

“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know how bad it is or when it happened, I don’t know _anything_!”

“And Yoshiki,” Toshi said quietly. “He was shot too.”

Sugizo stared at him. “What?”

“What about Hizumi?” Miya cut in. “He wouldn’t have even been there if it hadn’t been for us.”

“What?” Tsukasa paled. “What happened to Hizumi?”

“Hey,” Pata said firmly. “There’s no point freaking out about what we don’t know. Toshi: Karyu and Satochi have already taken Yoshiki to a hospital. He’ll be fine. Sugizo: yes, Heath didn’t do himself any favours by not telling you sooner, but you got him here when you did. You’ve done what you could, now the doctors are in charge.”

Sugizo swore under his breath and slammed the car door shut, but Pata moved on. “Miya: what exactly happened to Hizumi?”

“Kyo rammed us and the car spun out and hit a pole,” Miya said shortly.

“There was a cop there,” hide interjected. “She saw the whole thing and called an ambulance.”

Pata nodded. “Then he’s being looked after.”

“He’s probably fucking dead and we _left_ him there,” Miya snapped, and Tsukasa and Zero exchanged a worried look.

“We don’t know that, and we’ll deal with it when we _do_ know,” Pata said firmly. “So calm the fuck down. We’ve put a lot of distance between us and them, let’s use it to catch our breath instead of getting even more worked up. Okay?”

Miya just glared at him but said nothing and lit a cigarette.

Sugizo reached out a hand. “Give me one of those.”

Miya helped him light a cigarette and walked away a short distance, trailing pungent cigarette smoke behind him. Sugizo sat against a wall, one leg outstretched, the other drawn up, listlessly watching the rest of them. Toshi took Miya’s phone and disappeared. Taiji and hide eventually drifted off to look for a vending machine. Zero and Tsukasa attended to their own cars, inspecting the damage, mentally calculating what they would need to repair and replace. Yukke and Tatsurou drifted over to Miya’s side; not a word was exchanged, but the quiet presence of his friends was what really mattered. Pata wrestled the car keys off Sugizo, and he left to move the car away from A&E.

Sugizo finished what was left of his cigarette and let his head rest back against the wall, staring up at the dark sky. All he could see in his mind’s eye were the bullet holes in the side of his car. Amongst all the chaos it was all too easy to have missed when those gunshots had struck, there was just too much going on, but the same thoughts kept looping through his head: why hadn’t he seen something earlier? If he’d been paying any attention at all he would have noticed _something_ unusual in Heath’s behaviour or his posture or anything. He heaved a long, deep sigh. Having a smoke had helped to take the edge off some of the tension, and Miya was starting on his second one when Toshi came back. They spoke quietly and then Toshi handed the phone back to Miya and they both huddled around the device with Tatsurou and Yukke peering over their shoulders. Finally Miya clasped Toshi’s hands and bowed, looking relieved. All Toshi said was, “Take care. Let us know.”

Miya headed straight to Zero and Tsukasa; a few words were exchanged and the five of them took both cars and left. Sugizo didn’t bother to ask what or why. He really could not give a shit right now.

There was laughter, then. Sugizo turned and stared blankly at Taiji, Pata and hide rounding the far corner, each with a drink or a snack in hand. Sugizo couldn’t make out what they were saying but Taiji was making lots of big hand gestures and looking upset about something. The other two were laughing and then hide looked straight at Sugizo and gave him a thumbs up, grinning. Sugizo returned this with a wane smile. What on earth was so goddamn funny? It irritated him and he felt like throwing something or yelling at them to shut the fuck up but that would have taken a lot more energy than he was able to muster. He hauled himself up and discarded his spent cigarette in the trash.

The security guard started forward with one hand on his radio as soon as Sugizo set foot inside the hospital doors, but Sugizo ignored him and headed straight for the reception desk.

“Excuse me. Any news?”

The grey-haired nurse peered at him over the top of her John Lennon glasses. “And your relationship to the patient?” Her gaze skated over his shoulder at Taiji who was now striding briskly towards them, and then at the security guard. “We can only let two family members at a time visit patients in emergency and intensive care.” 

“Of course I’m—!” Sugizo stopped, composed himself, pursed his lips and tried again. “Sorry. He’s my partner.”

“Thank you.” Deciding that this man was not going to cause any further trouble, at least for now, the nurse nodded and tapped at her computer a few times. Sugizo watched her eyes scanning over the hospital admission notes, the glow of the computer monitor reflected in her glasses. “He’s been admitted to the trauma unit and is going into surgery.”

“How long?”

“We’ll let you know when you can see him.”

Sugizo rested one hand on the counter. “How long?” he asked again, more softly this time. “Please. I need to know.”

Her frown softened into a small, sympathetic smile. “It’ll be a few hours. I wish I could tell you more but it’s hard to say at this stage. We’ll let you know, dear.”

Sugizo jumped a little when someone touched his shoulder, and he turned his head jerkily to come face to face with Taiji.

“C’mon, man. There’s nothing we can do right now. Let’s wait outside.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sugizo nodded mechanically and let Taiji take him back outside again where hide waved them over, shouting, “Hey! Sugizo! Get over here and tell us how you destroyed Taiji’s nuts!”

* * *

“How are you feeling?”

Heath’s hand twitched and he cracked an eye open. It was dark but beyond the doorway, the hospital corridor was still brightly lit, drawing a skewed rectangle of light on the floor. Something rumbled and rattled in the distance. This became gradually louder and nearer and then a nurse wheeled a cart full of medical supplies past. Somewhere nearby, maybe in the next room, a man coughed.

“I’m okay,” Heath said hoarsely.

  
  


“Watch the—!” A car horn blared and Heath winced when Sugizo wrenched his car back into its lane just inches before he would have collided with the car to his right. The other car’s horn blared and the passenger wound their window down to scream something unintelligible at him with a rude hand gesture, but Sugizo was too preoccupied to care about that right now.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” Sugizo’s voice was a mixture of anger and panic and Heath winced again, but not from pain.

“I didn’t want to worry you at the time.”

“ _Are you fucking serious?_ Jesus Christ, Heath…” Sugizo continued swearing under his breath. He snatched up his phone, looking up directions to the nearest hospital with one hand, driving with the other, glancing up at the road every other second. His hands shook and he nearly dropped his phone when it rang. “Fuck off!”

  
  


He remembered Sugizo pulling up at the emergency entryway at some hospital and slamming on the brakes hard enough to give them whiplash, being dragged out of the car and bundled inside by hospital staff while a big security guard held Sugizo back, and the words being repeated over and over: _calm down, sir. Calm down_. Everything after that was an unintelligible blur, like waking up from a dream and having it dissolve faster than you can piece it back together.

“You’re in intensive care,” the nurse said. “I’m just going to take your blood pressure.”

The cuff was secured around his upper arm and quickly inflated until it became uncomfortably tight. The pressure made his fingers curl into a loose fist and the cuff held for a few seconds before the machine beeped and the cuff gradually deflated again. The nurse jotted the numbers down on his chart and Heath winced at the harsh scrape of the velcro being torn apart.

He was parched and lethargic but he didn’t feel too bad, all things considered. His limbs weighed about a tonne each but he could move them with some effort. He looked down. He was in one of those awkward ‘one size fits all’ post-op hospital gowns that tied up at the back. He groped beneath the edge of the stiff, bleached fabric and his fingers found the thick pad of gauze taped to his side. A dull ache radiated there.

“You’re on painkillers,” the nurse went on. “You’ll probably feel a bit tired but you should be fine. We’re just keeping you here for a few days to monitor your recovery, and you can do with some rest.”

Heath nodded weakly.

“Get some sleep. We’ll have staff in and out checking on everyone all the time. Let us know if you need anything, or if you feel very cold or dizzy.”

Heath spent the rest of the night and the following morning drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to distinguish sleep from wakefulness. One time he dreamt that Pata was in the chair by the window, reading. Then he blinked slowly and Pata was replaced by a different nurse coming in to take his blood pressure. A plastic cup of water had appeared on the rollaway table with a plastic jug. He tried to reach for the cup but it was too much work and his arms wouldn’t obey, so he gave up and closed his eyes again, dreaming that the nurse had pushed the table closer to him. The next time he opened his eyes, Sugizo was by his side, holding his hand, gently stroking it with his thumb, and he looked up when Heath took in a sharp breath.

“Hey,” Heath murmured, attempting a smile.

Sugizo’s brows were knitted into a frown and a few different emotions flitted across his features, finally settling on one of tired resignation. His lips parted slightly, but all that came out was a soft sigh of relief.

“Are you all right?” Heath murmured, squeezing his hand with as much strength as he could muster.

“Am _I_ all right?” If Sugizo had had the energy, he would have snapped at him. Instead, he just gave him a weary glare. “You should have told me the second it happened.”

“I couldn’t risk you and everyone else if they followed us anywhere.” Heath looked abashed. “I wasn’t going to _not_ tell you.”

This time he managed to reach up weakly and he touched the bruise forming on the ridge of Sugizo’s brow. “What’s this?”

“What?” It took a couple of seconds for Sugizo to remember. It was so odd to him that Heath should be worrying about something as trivial as a bruise that his resentment waned. “Oh. It’s nothing. Taiji hit me.”

“He _what?_ ” Heath immediately sat up in bed and sank back into the pillows, groaning.

“It was an accident. We kind of snuck up on each other by mistake.”

“God. I hope you hit him back.”

Sugizo laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry about that.” His expression softened and became more serious. “How about you?”

“Yeah. Tired. Sore.” Heath showed him the gauze pad, grunting a little with the effort it took. There were bruises on his ribs, his face, and Sugizo’s fingers skirted near his broken, swollen lip.

“Who did this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“One of Kaoru’s boys?”

Heath sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Just some guy. I don’t even know his name.”

“Fucking bastards,” Sugizo said under his breath, more to himself than to Heath.

“It’s okay. It’ll heal.” Heath smiled feebly.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I said I was sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

“How do you figure?” Sugizo snorted.

“Well… with all that’s been happening lately, I realised I still owe you for what you did to me at Black Cherry.”

This almost made Sugizo burst into laughter in the quiet intensive care ward. “If it’s what I’m thinking about, it might be some time before you’re up for it.”

Heath smiled again. “You know I keep my promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heath and Sugizo being protective of each other makes me (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> Heath promising Sugizo sexytimes makes me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	12. Chapter 12

It was a beautiful day for a funeral. The sky was a sheet of blue silk without a cloud in sight and the cherry blossoms were coming into bloom, dappling the ground in soft pink petals. They couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day to farewell Kiyoshi and Sakura.

The funeral was perfunctory, for Kiyoshi and Sakura weren’t actually there. As with many people in their line of work, they had no family and since their bodies hadn’t been claimed, they were cremated by the municipality along with the other unclaimed or unidentified corpses in the city morgue that month. Their ashes were buried en masse on the grounds of the local cemetery. Yoshiki had sent flowers and shouldered the funerary costs, but only Miya, Tatsurou, Satochi and Yukke were present to pay their respects.

Gazing up at the photos of Kiyoshi and Sakura on their altars, Miya’s face was more grim than usual. This was the second time in three months that they had to don their black suits and ties to send off their dear friends. Sakurai Ao’s death had been a tragedy but at least he had died peacefully, surrounded by loved ones. Occupational hazard or not, Kiyoshi and Sakura had been murdered for no good reason at all. One by one, they laid a white flower on the altar, bowed deeply and left.

* * *

At the sound of someone knocking on the door, Hizumi stopped in the middle of peeling the foil lid off the top of his fruit cup. “Come in!”

It was Sugizo, followed by Heath. “Hey. How is everything?”

“Mm. Okay I suppose.” Hizumi put the fruit cup down and pushed his tray table away. He grimaced at the effort it took with his restricted movement; Heath quickly moved to his side to help him, but Hizumi waved him away.

Following the collision, Hizumi had spent nearly two weeks in intensive care on constant supervision and completely immobilised from the neck down, undergoing a series of comprehensive tests and scans until the doctors were satisfied that there were no signs of any spinal cord damage. Using a combination of his wealth and his connections, Yoshiki arranged to have Hizumi transferred to a room in a private hospital under the care of Tokyo’s best neurosurgeons. While he was still bedridden, he was now fitted with a stiff neck brace and the doctors were satisfied that he could use his arms and feed himself.

“How’s the…?” Hizumi motioned at Heath’s own injury.

“Sore, but on the mend.” Heath sat down at the foot of the bed.

“We passed Miya and Zero on the way in,” Sugizo said.

Hizumi smiled. “Yeah. Miya comes here a lot. It’s really sweet, but I think he feels like this is his fault.”

Heath looked down. “Well, I think we all—”

“Stop. Taiji came in yesterday and said the same thing. You know whose fault it is? The asshole who hit me.”

“But if you hadn’t—”

“Stop.”

“And we—”

“Stop it.” Hizumi picked up his fruit cup again and dug in with the little plastic spoon. “You all act like someone’s died or something.”

“You _could_ have died,” Heath said.

“It’s not the first crash I’ve been in. It’s the _worst_ , but…” Hizumi shrugged as much as his neck brace would allow. 

When it came to all the different people who were looked upon less favourably by your average law-abiding citizens, the street racers were amongst the least threatening and were generally considered non-violent. Sure they took part in illegal gambling and money laundering and what people tended to view as reckless driving, but they seldom became involved in such dangerous, homicidal encounters. That kind of activity was reserved for the likes of the Yakuza and the contract killers and the drug lords.

“You’re being awfully positive,” Sugizo remarked.

“What else am I going to do? I’m alive so I’m pretty happy about that. The doctor says I need a lot of rehab to recover, but I’ll be up and about again.”

“I bet you can’t wait to get back behind the wheel, huh?” Sugizo asked.

Hizumi paused. “I dunno,” he said doubtfully.

“Why?”

“They think that it’s probably not a good idea for me to do anything… high-impact.”

Heath looked sombre. “What will you do?”

“Retire from racing, I guess. What do you suppose the trade-in value is on a wrecked S2000?” Hizumi joked. “I could be a mechanic or a designer. But hey, I’ve got plenty of time to think about that while I’m on the mend.”

“If you need any help, you know you can come to us.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” Hizumi smiled. “Between you guys and Miya and Yoshiki all offering to help, I think I’ll be set for life.”

Heath just patted his knee.

“You know what the best part of all this is?” Hizumi pointed across the room at a giant teddy bear with a red bow tie. “Knowing that Pata and Taiji were walking around carrying _that_.”

* * *

Yoshiki and Toshi made a point of everybody going back to work as though they hadn’t been kidnapped recently, and nobody objected. ‘Business as usual’, they said. Threats against their lives were nothing new and it was important to maintain a sense of normalcy at Extasy. They had to keep things running smoothly at the front of house to ensure that the other business behind closed doors remained as smooth as possible, too.

Despite his best efforts, no amount of makeup could conceal the dark purple bruise on Sugizo’s face thanks to Taiji’s fist.

“Whoa, what happened?” said one of their regular customers.

Sugizo just smiled politely. “Nothing much. Got into a fistfight.”

“Must’ve been some fight.”

“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy!” hide said gleefully.

Yoshiki hadn’t been impressed to see the state of his office. Most of it was trivial but the desk had left marks where it collided with the wall, and a shallow, fist-sized indentation in the other wall remained. Even before he spoke to them, Yoshiki had a damn good idea as to who was responsible for that particular detail. Taiji was great at what he did and that was what had kept him in Yoshiki’s employ for so long, but the man had no concept of restraint. It was all or nothing; he wasn’t known for pulling his punches, literally or figuratively. They’d have to get someone in to fix that but he had other work to take care of first. Yoshiki sat down at his desk and started on the pile of mail that one of the guys had brought in when there came a knock at the door.

“It’s open.”

Toshi was standing in the doorway with a stony expression, holding the phone in one hand. “It’s for you.”

* * *

They closed the bar early that night. The meeting was scheduled for 11pm sharp. They were all there: all seven of the Extasy team plus Miya and his men, each one armed, each one pissed off.

Somebody knocked on the door and Taiji crossed the room in a few long strides and leaned in close. “Bar’s closed!”

“I’m here for our meeting,” came a quiet voice on the other side.

Taiji glanced at Yoshiki and unlocked the door and took a couple of steps back with a cocked gun in his hands.

The door opened slowly and Kaoru bowed. “Good evening.”

Taiji stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance. “No friends?” he asked with a baleful glare, the gun trained on their visitor’s head.

Kaoru blinked in confusion. “No. I gave my word.”

“Your word isn’t worth shit.”

“Taiji,” Yoshiki said sharply.

If he had his way, Taiji would have unloaded his gun into Kaoru and be done with it. Instead, he gave the man a rough pat-down and when he was satisfied that Kaoru was unarmed, he stepped back just enough to allow the man to enter and kicked the door shut.

Kaoru stopped. All of the furniture had been pushed back against the walls and a single chair stood in the middle of the floor.

“Please,” Yoshiki said with a curt smile. He had one arm in a sling, and gestured at the chair with his good arm. “Sit.”

Kaoru did as he was told. He rested his hands on his knees and looked around at the semi-circle of men around him, eyeing each one in turn. None of them looked at all pleased to see him; Miya always looked pissed off but right now he looked like he was on a hair trigger, and Sugizo didn’t look much friendlier. Taiji stalked up behind Kaoru just enough to give him another baleful glare and took his place between the one with pink hair and long-haired guy with the beard.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me.” Kaoru dipped his head politely. “I really appreciate this.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Yoshiki said in a tone that meant anything but. “I understand you have some business to discuss.”

“I’ll try to be quick. I know that your time is valuable and that you’d rather not have me here.” He took a moment to consider his words carefully. “Everyone who is anyone knows that The Underneath is at the top of their game. That was why I came to you and nobody else for the hit on Sakurai—”

“Kaoru, I’ve heard your spiel before,” Yoshiki interrupted. “Please don’t tell me you came all this way just to deliver some obsequious flattery—”

“I’m not being obsequious, I’m being honest. Look, long story short, I’ve heard through Yasu’s contacts that you know where Kyo is.”

“We might, or we might not. We’re not fucking interested in your feud. Hunt him down yourself if you’re man enough and keep us out of it.”

“I’ll pay you!”

There was a pause then, and finally Yoshiki lifted his head arrogantly and looked down at Kaoru. “Are you saying you want to open a contract to dispose of your right hand man?”

“Yes.” Kaoru hesitated and slowly looked up to meet Yoshiki’s eyes. “He’s deserted me. I need to make an example of him and I want it done properly.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to afford the fee last time. What makes you think you can afford it now?”

“Name your price. I’ll get your money.”

“And you’re sure about that.”

Kaoru held Yoshiki’s gaze. “Kill Kyo for me and you will have your money. Name your price.”

“All right.” Everybody in the room watched Yoshiki slowly walk across the room to stand in front of Kaoru, extending a hand. “The price has just doubled.”

Kaoru hesitated. “Double…”

“Yes.” The corner of Yoshiki’s lips turned up just a fraction. “I call it the asshole tax.”

Kaoru smiled thinly. “Fair enough. I accept.” He took Yoshiki’s hand and shook it.

“The contract will not commence until you have delivered the first half of the payment. The other half will be delivered upon completion of the job.”

“May I ask for one condition, then?”

“You may ask.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I would like your most savage killer to do it.”

All eyes turned to Taiji as Kaoru said this, and Yoshiki looked over his shoulder at him. “Well?”

Taiji poured himself a shot of Jim Beam—the expensive stuff—and drained it in one go, scarcely taking his eyes off Kaoru. “Sure,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll do it.”

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Yoshiki said smoothly.

Kaoru knew that his time was up. He stood up from his chair and shook Yoshiki’s hand again. “Thank you. I’ll leave this in your capable hands.”

* * *

Nobody at Extasy really believed that Kaoru would be able to cough up the money for the first payment, but the funds were transferred to Yoshiki’s business account in a little over a week. They suspected that Kaoru had looted the money from all of the business under Karigari’s control—the pachinko parlours, gambling dens, hostess clubs, you name it—and probably dipped into the company’s coffers to be able to scrape up the funds, but they didn’t really care where he got it from. Other people’s money wasn’t their problem. All they needed was to be able to pay for the service being requested.

Kaoru put the phone down and smiled to himself. That Yoshiki was good at being stoic but there was definitely a note of surprise in his voice when he said that he’d received the payment.

“Thank you for transferring the money so promptly,” Yoshiki had said.

“You’re welcome,” Kaoru said, and to himself he thought, _Smug bastard, you didn’t think I could actually do it, did you? I’m not fucking stupid._

“Since you’ve delivered the first payment, the contract will now commence, as per our agreement.”

“I appreciate it, Yoshiki. Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from you once the job is complete.”

“We’ll be in touch.” Yoshiki hung up.

Kaoru got out of his chair and put his hands in his pockets, wandering about the spacious office that had once belonged to his late uncle. Off to the right was the dusty bookshelf where the tanto knife sat. Just looking at that made the missing joint on his left hand itch, and he felt like the whole room mocked him. He’d have himself set up in a new office with new furnishings. For now, though, he picked up the phone on the desk and called the pretty receptionist at the front desk.

“Ayane?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please come into my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

The big old grandfather clock in the far corner counted the seconds and minutes that passed, its long brass pendulum gleaming every time it caught the light. He’d never noticed the sound of the clock before, but now it seemed very loud, each tick and tock resonating heavily within the walls of the office. Presently, a tentative knock at the door roused him to attention.

“Come in.”

Ayane entered the room and stood on the other side of his desk. “You needed me, sir?”

“Yes. Close the door.” Kaoru let his eyes wander over her: short and petite, shoulder-length hair, glasses that gave her a meek, girlish look, a blush-pink blouse over a black knee-length pencil skirt, nice legs. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze but said nothing, awaiting further instructions.

“Come here,” he said finally.

“S-sir?”

“Come here,” he repeated more softly, in a tone that said that he expected to be obeyed.

Ayane blinked behind her glasses and cast an anxious glance over her shoulder at the closed door. She slowly made her way around the desk to stand beside him, and he pushed his chair back.

“On your knees,” he ordered, and began to undo his belt.


	13. Chapter 13

The wipers flicked back and forth over the Rolls-Royce’s windscreen. It had been pelting rain almost all day and it was only just starting to let up. The rain-soaked roads shimmered in the dark, reflecting light from passing cars and the street lights overhead. In the back, Yoshiki’s phone went off and from the driver’s seat, Heath could see his face lit up by his phone, glowing eerily from beneath while he went through his messages.

“Message from Miya,” Yoshiki said. “They’ve just arrived back at Shangri-La. Everything seems okay so far.”

“That’s good,” Heath said, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. “I’m sure Kaoru and Kyo would have targeted it sooner or later if they’d been able to keep it together.”

Beside him in the passenger seat, Sugizo turned his head as well. “Have you spoken with Hizumi and the others lately?”

“Not since they took delivery of their new cars, no.”

“They’re probably busy fixing them up to race.”

“If you hear from Hizumi, let me know, won’t you?” Yoshiki said. “He may need some help getting back on his feet and we don’t want to leave him out in the cold.”

“Of course.” Heath glanced down at the GPS and took the exit headed towards Ibaraki.

* * *

“Please, no…”

“Shut up.” Kaoru shoved the receptionist Ayane face-down over his desk, hiking her skirt up and ignoring her terrified whimpers.

“No,” she sobbed. “Please… I love my f-fiancé, please don’t…”

This ended in a high-pitched wail when Kaoru slapped her thigh with his open palm. “ _I don’t give a shit about your goddamn fiancé_. You’ll just make it worse for yourself if you don’t stay still.”

Ayane had tried refusing him at first but this only earned her even rougher treatment. One time Kaoru had even brought a couple of guys in to hold her down until she finally stopped trying to fight it. Giving in to the new oyabun’s demands just meant that it would be over sooner. He had even threatened to hurt and even kill her fiancé if she so much as uttered a peep to anyone, and now all she could do was cry harder and curl up as best she could when he unhooked her bra with one hand and undid his trousers with the other.

“Uh, Boss?” The door opened and Reita poked his head into the room, only to quickly avert his eyes.

“What?” Kaoru grunted.

“Visitor for you,” Reita said, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the floor and doing his best to ignore the sobbing, half-naked woman bent over the desk.

“Not now. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“But… it’s Yoshiki.”

Kaoru’s jaw clenched for a moment. “All right, then. Bring him in.”

Reita paused and his eyes flickered up to Ayane. “Uh…”

“What?”

“Um. Nothing, Boss. N-never mind.” Reita disappeared from the doorway.

Kaoru gave Ayane’s breasts a squeeze before palming the front of his trousers to adjust himself. “Tidy yourself up and get out. We’ll continue this later.”

Ayane couldn’t scramble up from the desk fast enough. She clutched her bra and blouse to her chest and hurried for the door, swiping at her face with her free hand, almost tripping over her high heels and blindly shouldering into Reita along the corridor in her haste to leave. Kaoru took a moment to compose himself, straightening his clothes and settling into his chair. Damn, that Ayane could get him so fucking hard. He loved the way she squealed when he fucked her just so. The memory of her bent over his desk, dripping wet just from touching her through her clothes, and those sweet tits of hers covered in his cum made his dick twitch restlessly in his pants. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbed himself a few more times, and refilled his glass from the bottle of red he‘d taken out of Sakurai’s beautiful old wine cabinet.

  
  


Flanked by Heath and Sugizo, Yoshiki almost collided with a woman running down the corridor. She was in tears, clutching her clothes to her chest and he watched as she hurried away. Wasn’t that one of the receptionist girls he’d seen at the front desk downstairs once? Yoshiki exchanged a glance with his men but the trio said nothing. The door to Sakurai’s—or rather Kaoru’s office was open and they could see him sitting at that big expensive desk with a glass of wine in his hand, ready to receive them.

“Yoshiki!” Kaoru rose from his seat. “Good of you to come, but you might have called first.”

“I do apologise but some things need to be delivered in person,” Yoshiki said amicably. “You understand.”

“Of course, of course. Wine?”

Heath and Sugizo declined but Yoshiki accepted a glass and took the seat across from Kaoru.

Kaoru smiled at them smarmily, especially at Yoshiki. “I hope there are no hard feelings about what happened the last time we saw each other.”

“None at all. Business is business,” Yoshiki said coolly. “You’re looking very… minimalist these days.”

“What… oh, this?” Kaoru chuckled and looked around the office, which had been rid of many of the old ornaments and furnishings. “Just in sort of a transitionary period. I’ll be moving to a different office shortly. The new oyabun needs a new office, you see.”

“I meant your staff. Looking a little on the thin side.”

Kaoru pursed his lips, unsure as to whether the man was insulting him or not. “I hope you’re here to give me some good news.”

“I’d like to be able to say that the job is complete, but no. These things take a little time and finesse if you want it done properly.”

“That’s all right.” Kaoru poured himself another glass of wine. “The Underneath never does a job badly. I did say I’d leave it in your capable hands, didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

Heath stepped away to close the office door and once the lock clicked shut, Sugizo left Yoshiki’s side and rounded the desk. Kaoru felt his hand resting heavily on his shoulder and the hard steel muzzle of a gun digging into his back.

Kaoru stared across the desk at Yoshiki, his mouth agape in shock, and Yoshiki looked right back at him. The grandfather clock counted the long seconds that passed.

At length, he broke the silence. “Who was it?”

“That’s between us and our client. A contract is a contract.”

“I just want to know.”

“It’s not going to make you feel better.”

“It’s Miya, isn’t it?”

Yoshiki‘s face remained neutral but his gaze from behind his dark glasses was steady. “No. It was Kyo.”

“Kyo.” Kaoru held Yoshiki’s gaze. “How much did he offer you?”

“More than you did.”

“How much?”

Yoshiki said nothing.

Kaoru pursed his lips into a firm line. “Whatever he gave you, I will match it. You know I’m good for it. You didn’t think I could get you that deposit, _but I did_. Give me a number.”

“38.”

“38… what? Million?”

“Years.”

  
  


When Kyo had driven off in Ruki’s car that night, he didn’t have any destination in mind. All he knew was that he was furious and that everything was fucking Kaoru’s fault. It was clear that the man had no fucking idea what he was doing and he didn’t view Kyo as an equal at all. In the end, he’d been _just_ as disposable as the rest of them. What was the fucking point? The whole thing was just falling apart. Even if they could pick up the pieces, the whole thing would be fucking embarrassing and pathetic.

Kyo drove around Tokyo until he was just about nodding off at the wheel. He slept in the car, grudgingly moved on when the cops told him to move on, found a quiet little business park to hole up in until _they_ told him to move on, and eventually found himself at a dingy shipping yard on the harbour. It was cold there, and some of the dock workers looked at him funny—heavily-tattooed, homeless-looking guy in a dinged-up little sports car—but at least they left him alone and it was nice and quiet.

He was at a convenience store looking for a cheap meal when Ruki came up and practically dragged him away. He’d been looking everywhere for Kyo. Kaoru had ordered him and the others to look for Kyo and bring him back, and the way Ruki delivered the news told him that it wasn’t because Kaoru wanted him back safe and sound. After Kyo had calmed down and had some time to think clearly, he got into the car and made his way to a certain bar in Ginza.

The good-looking one with the auburn hair and tatts had almost broken his face as soon as he stepped foot into Extasy and it took three people to separate them—the bigger tattooed guy and the pink-haired one to pry Sugizo off, and the one who looked like an accountant to drag Kyo away—and Kyo had suffered little more than a blood nose and a very sore face. Then he had been forced to sit and wait for an hour so that Yoshiki could call Miya in for this meeting while their guard dog Taiji kept a close eye on him.

“What makes you think we’ll do this job for you?” Yoshiki had asked archly. “We’re not fucking interested in your feud. We had nothing to do with your feud with Miya, and we want nothing to do with your new feud with Kaoru.”

Kyo stared at him. “It’s not for me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Kaoru isn’t going to stop just because you’ve all gotten away. He’s going to do his best to hunt me down and I’m willing to bet he’s going to do the same to you.”

Miya only glared but Yoshiki let his gaze linger on Kyo’s battered face. “How much are you betting?”

Kyo stalled. “I… what?"

“If you’re good at something, never do it for free.” Yoshiki smiled and spread his hands. “We’re a business here. I get what you’re saying, but we’re not doing this out of the goodness of our own hearts. Now, if this were a formal contract, then we can talk.”

Kyo floundered. “I don’t… I don’t have anything… I don’t have any money, that was all Kaoru…”

“Then I’m sorry, this meeting is over.” Yoshiki stood up from his desk. “Toshi will see you out.”

Kyo had limped away from that meeting with nothing to show for it. They had left him high and dry, alone and defenceless, ready for Kaoru or one of his slaves to pick him off. He stewed on this for a few days and actually considered going back to Ibaraki. A few times he sat in the car with the engine running, only to switch it off again. He just couldn’t bring himself to start driving. He couldn’t see himself crawling back to Kaoru but at the same time, what else could he do? He’d never held down a proper job before. If he approached some other clan, he might be able to claw his way up from rock bottom, or they might turn him into mince meat.

When he returned to Extasy, Toshi looked at him expectantly. “Do you have the money, then?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I’m afraid we can’t help you.” Toshi turned to walk away. “I could refer you to someone more affordable but I can’t guarantee how good they’ll be—”

“Wait!” Kyo licked his lips nervously. “Can I speak with Yoshiki?”

“Yoshiki isn’t here tonight but you can ask any of us and you’ll get the same answer you’ll get from him.”

“I have something else I can offer! Please let me speak with Yoshiki. Even if it’s just a phone call.”

In a private room at an expensive restaurant that looked out onto Tokyo Tower, Yoshiki’s phone rang. He eyed it for a second, sighed and put down his sake. “Sorry, Miya.”

“No, it’s fine,” Miya assured him. “Sometimes work never stops.”

Yoshiki picked up his phone. “I hope this is urgent, Toshi.”

“Sorry, but it is. Do you have a moment?”

The quality of the audio sounded like he was on speaker phone. Yoshiki motioned for the wait staff to leave; they bowed deeply and obeyed, closing the door behind them.

“Go ahead, you’re on speaker.”

“Yoshiki, I’m sorry to be a bother.”

It was Kyo’s voice.

“If this is about what we spoke about last time, my decision was final,” Yoshiki said tersely.

“Just hear me out.” Kyo took a deep breath. “I can’t pay you. I don’t have the money or anything like that. All I can offer is myself.”

Yoshiki gave a short, derisive laugh. “We aren’t looking to hire and we’re definitely not looking for a prostitute but thanks for the offer.”

“I’m not offering to join your team. I’m offering my life as payment.”

“I beg your pardon?” Yoshiki said. “You’re saying that if we kill Kaoru for you, you’ll let us kill you as payment?”

“Is it enough?”

“You do realise we don’t need your consent to kill you.”

“Yes. But you won’t. This isn’t your fight. You said so yourself.”

Another soft chuckle from Yoshiki, conceding that he had a point.

“Well?”

Yoshiki mulled over this for a moment over a cup of hot sake. “It’s an unusual offer.”

“I have nothing else. If I go back, Kaoru will kill me anyway. And I want to get in first. I want to go out on my own terms.” Kyo’s voice was full of grim determination. “Is this enough?”

Yoshiki and Miya looked at each other. The look on Miya’s face said: _Take it._

“Is this your final offer?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Yoshiki looked at Miya again, and he nodded. “All right. We accept. Consider this a verbal contract. Don’t do anything stupid like wasting our time trying to run away.”

“I won’t if you don’t let him get me first.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it,” Yoshiki said, smiling at Miya. “We’ll be in touch.”

Toshi hung up and Yoshiki immediately dialled another number. “Sorry about this, Miya, I do hate to make business calls during meals but…”

“No, by all means.”

“Yasu, please. It's Hayashi Yoshiki. That's right, from The Underneath. Yes, I’ll hold. Thank you.” While he waited, he poured himself another cup of sake and sipped at it slowly. “Oh hello. Yes, very well, and you? Excellent. Sorry to have to bother you at this time of the evening. I was hoping you could do a small favour for me. Not much: if a small piece of information could be leaked…”

  
  


“But… but we had a contract. _We had a contract!_ ” Kaoru’s voice came out in a shrill whine.

“Yes,” Yoshiki agreed. “As per your request, Taiji is with Kyo now. Your contract will be honoured but a prior contract takes precedence. Standard business practice; as a fellow businessman, I’m sure you understand.”

Kaoru’s eyes darted this way and that while he tried to process the news that Kyo had beaten him to the punch. And they had double-crossed him. He had paid them a lot of fucking money to kill Kyo when they were going to do it anyway. He heard two silenced gunshots going off behind him and he looked down. He felt winded, as though someone had punched him in the back with a sledgehammer and a fine spatter of red on the desk gleamed under the lights. Gingerly, he touched the bright red stain spreading over the front of his shirt. It had been crisp and freshly-pressed when he got dressed this morning, but now it was ruined. He stopped moving when a third bullet struck him in the back of his head.

Yoshiki strode out of the room with Heath and Sugizo, walking straight past members of the Karigari clan who looked at them with a mixture of curiosity, fear, and deference. Whispers of their unannounced visitors had travelled quickly. Had Kaoru been killed? Were _they_ in trouble? Had somebody ordered a mass execution? Sugizo watched Heath closely as they made their way through the corridors, his hand clenching and unclenching around the warm, textured grip of his gun. Heath said nothing but locked eyes with one particular individual as they passed, almost not recognising the guy now that his broken nose had healed.

Yoshiki reached into his coat, pulled out his phone and dialled.

“Yeah?” It sounded windy on the other end of the line.

“It’s done.”

  
  


Taiji pocketed his phone and zipped up his leather jacket. The chilly wind whipped his hair into his eyes and the ground was slick and shiny from the rains earlier in the evening. Far above him loomed a massive crane, its steel beams sketching harsh, dark lines in the sky. He strolled past rows and rows of identical shipping containers stacked four high and found a lone car tucked away beside a disused office building with a broken window.

The car door opened as he approached and Kyo limped out. Not a word was exchanged when they walked to the edge of the dock together and gazed out to sea, listening to the roar of the wind and the waves.

Taiji lit a cigarette, cupping a hand around the lighter. The wind snatched the wisps of smoke from his lips. “I just got the call. The contract is complete.”

Kyo made no move except to nod once. He didn’t even look at Taiji; he kept his gaze trained on the dark water lapping up at the concrete beneath him.

“Not having second thoughts, are we?”

“No.” Kyo shook his head. His voice was only just audible over the wind.

“Good,” Taiji said crisply. “How do you want it, then?”

Kyo closed his eyes. “Any way you think is best.”

Taiji said nothing and they stood there in silence. The end of his cigarette glowed bright orange in the darkness. Once the cigarette was spent, he disposed of the butt in a nearby trashcan and started walking away. Behind him, Kyo heard wet gravel crunching underfoot and four gunshots going off in quick succession, and opened his eyes in time to see the water rushing up to consume him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made awesome progress with my two-year old problem child project and decided to celebrate with the next chapter of _Extasy_! I'm feeling good after more than doubling the word count in the last month and it's almost finished - not a Yoshiki kind of 'almost finished' but actually 95% there. I hope to see you all writing more as well :)


	14. Epilogue

News of Kaoru’s death spread quickly. Within days it seemed like everybody in Japan’s underworld knew that Hayashi Yoshiki had shown up in Ibaraki to deal with the young oyabun directly. Nobody knew who was really behind it; there were rumours that Miya from Shangri-La had ordered the hit on Kaoru, but most people believed that Yoshiki himself had taken it upon himself to walk straight into Karigari’s head office and murder the up and coming oyabun for his many misdeeds. Neither Miya nor Yoshiki bothered to address these whispers.

A week later, the clan fell into further unrest when a stiff showed up at the front door. Reita had been the first unlucky soul to see the body. At first he’d thought some drunk, homeless guy had passed out face-down on the ground looking like a drowned rat, but when they didn’t respond when he shouted at him and nudged him with his foot, he crouched down to turn the body over and instantly gagged at the strong stench clinging to it. He hunched over on all fours like a wild animal, heaving and coughing, eyes watering, and he had retreated a short distance away until other people began to arrive. Beneath his waterlogged clothes, Kyo was bloated, his skin clammy and so pale it was blueish and almost translucent. Eventually Masaru arrived and after he’d gotten a good look at this unwelcome gift, he ordered three other senior members to help him wrap up the body in a plastic sheet and dispose of it.

Even an evening of hard drinking couldn’t erase the image that was now burned into Reita’s mind. Kyo’s wide, glassy eyes stared up at nothing and his mouth was frozen in an expression of mild surprise. Some of the softest parts of his skin and flesh had been partially eaten away by fish or sea birds: his eyelids, his lips, the webbing between his fingers, the edges of four gunshot wounds in his body, ragged and dark red surrounded by white, swollen skin. Reita fumbled for his keys in his pockets and stopped outside his apartment, all thoughts of Kyo’s corpse fleeing his mind.

There was a knife in his door. Somebody had wedged a fucking knife into his front door.

He stood there for several minutes in a daze, just staring at the knife sticking out of the plywood door until the keys that dangled loosely from his fingers clattered to the ground. He swallowed hard and stooped to pick them up. He looked this way and that; it was late and there was nobody around. He pulled at the knife but it was stuck fast so he grasped the grip with both hands and braced his hip against the door, slowly rocking the knife up and down until he could finally ease it out. It looked like the kind of weapon that people took out to the wilderness to kill and skin game. Not knowing what to do with it, he took it inside, locked the door and lay in bed, wide awake.

* * *

“You work too hard.” Tatsurou had stretched his considerable height over the length of the two-seater sofa, reading manga while Miya pored over staff rosters and counted money.

“Why do you say that?” Miya asked without looking up. “Are you offering to help or something?”

“No. It’s just an observation.”

“Thanks,” Miya said dryly. There was a knock at the door and he sighed. Now he’d lost count and would have to start all over again. “Can you at least get that?”

Heaving an even bigger sigh, Tatsurou put down his book, got up and opened the door, where he was met with the most ordinary-looking person he had ever seen: a man in a plain charcoal-grey suit with a plain white shirt and a plain striped tie, his grey, thinning hair carefully combed over his bald spot.

The plain man bowed and pushed his plain, black-framed glasses back up his nose. “I’m here representing Sakurai Ao’s estate. Are you Yaguchi Miya?”

“Uh, no. That would be him.” Tatsurou pointed at Miya who slowly rose from his desk.

“Can I help you?” Miya extended a hand.

The plain man shook his hand and produced an envelope from his plain brown briefcase. “In the wake of all that’s happened, we the company lawyers have been asked to come together to execute Sakurai Ao’s will. This is for you.”

Miya looked down at the proffered envelope and glanced at Tatsurou before breaking the seal and unfolding the letter inside, and Tatsurou watched the tiny changes in his expression while he read. It was a short letter and when he finished reading, Miya carefully lay it flat on his desk and smoothed out the creases.

Tatsurou moved closer. “What is it?”

Miya looked first at the lawyer and then at Tatsurou. “Sakurai… he’s named me as his successor.”

The lawyer bowed at this, and Tatsurou stared at Miya with his mouth open. “That’s… that’s amazing! That’s a good thing, right?”

“I don’t know,” Miya said doubtfully.

“What do you mean? His empire will be all yours!”

But Miya only shook his head and sank back into his chair. “It’s _his_ empire. I’m not his family, I’m not even Yakuza. Kaoru was right about one thing: I’m an outsider. I have no claim to the title and after what Kaoru did, they need someone within the clan that they all know and trust to be their leader.”

“But he treated you like family,” Tatsurou reminded him. “Sakurai trusted _you_ and they’ll respect you because of that.”

“Is that enough, though?”

“Miya, think about what this could mean!”

Miya gave him a wane smile. “We have our lives here. I don’t want to climb the ladder just for the sake of it.”

“Is that your final decision, sir?” the lawyer asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You do. Should you refuse, your presence is requested at a committee to elect a new oyabun.”

Miya folded his hands in his lap and gazed at the letter on his desk. “Then I respectfully decline.”

* * *

“Hey.”

A little startled, Ryuichi looked up. “Oh, hey.”

Sugizo sat down next to him and offered him a towel, which he accepted gratefully, mopping the sweat from his face and neck. When he was done, he draped the towel around his neck and chugged a bottle of cold water, wiping his lips with one corner of the towel. Suddenly aware that Sugizo was watching him, he stopped, capping the bottle of water and setting it down, feeling awkward. “What’s up?”

“Not much. But I’ve noticed that you’re looking a bit better these days.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You’re happier. You’re more like yourself instead of how you’ve been…” Sugizo hummed, looking for the right word, “...‘acting’ yourself since the breakup. Are you seeing someone?”

“Oh.” Ryuichi looked down and shrugged self-consciously. “No. Not really.”

“No, or not really?”

“Well.” Ryuichi smiled to himself. “The other week I was having coffee and bumped into an old friend from school. She and I used to be really good friends until she moved to Osaka for university and I moved to Tokyo to join a band. Anyway, we got talking and talking and it was really nice.”

Sugizo smiled. “That does sound nice. Will you be seeing her again?”

“Maybe.” Ryuichi looked down at the water bottle in his hands. “Maybe we’re having lunch tomorrow.”

“That’s great! I’m really happy for you.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what _you_ think. If you have a connection and you both enjoy spending time together, why not?”

“Is that how you and Heath got together?”

Now it was Sugizo’s turn to smile bashfully and he fidgeted with his hands. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Ryuichi looked around.

“Oh, he had plans tonight. A friend of ours has just moved here and Heath is helping him get settled and find a job.”

* * *

“Heath! Over here!”

It took Heath a couple of seconds to spot Hizumi and he threaded his way through the evening crowds in Shibuya.

Hizumi had spent the last two or three months living very comfortably in Yoshiki’s penthouse. His nurses kept Hizumi to a strict schedule of rehabilitation and physical therapy prescribed by his treating specialists at the hospital to gradually build the strength back into his battered body. He had hated that: it was excruciatingly slow and frustrating work and for the longest time it felt like he was making no progress at all. Still, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do so he persevered with the encouragement of his friends who visited every few days, and little by little he saw improvement until he was able to walk unaided for short periods of time.

What he had disliked most, though, was taking advantage of someone else’s generosity, so as soon as he was feeling more confident in himself, he approached Yoshiki with two requests. The first was for help looking for an apartment of his own in Tokyo so that he could finally move out of Yoshiki’s home. That was the easy part, and soon he had moved into a comfortable ground-floor apartment where he wouldn’t need to climb up and down stairs.

The second request was for a job.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t really know what it’s like to have a proper job,” Hizumi had admitted. “I mean, I’ve had a few part-time jobs here and there. But I’ve been racing and doing up cars for so long that it’s become the only world I can understand. I’m not afraid of hard work, though, and I’d be honoured if I could learn what you do at Extasy.”

This made Yoshiki smile. “If you’re looking for an honest job, then I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person.”

Hizumi chuckled at this.

“In all seriousness, though, I can’t hire you to work at Extasy. For one, it’s too dangerous—”

“I’m not sc—”

“—but most of all, we have more than enough staff for our little establishment.”

“Oh.” Hizumi looked deflated.

“I’m sure we can find something for you, though,” Yoshiki had said sympathetically. “I’ll have the boys ask around for you.”

  
  


“It’s funny how some things make you see life from a different perspective,” Hizumi mused.

Heath glanced at him, holding his arm for support even though Hizumi insisted he didn’t need it. “How’s that?”

“Well, at first I used to be frustrated about how slow I have to walk these days. I’m getting stronger. Very slowly,” Hizumi added, “But once I got used to it, it made me think that maybe we spend too much time rushing about, and maybe everybody should walk a little more slowly.” He shrugged and laughed. “Or maybe I’m just getting old, I dunno.”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” Heath said. “There’s nothing wrong with slowing down. Life isn’t a race, it’s there to be enjoyed.”

Hizumi pointed an emphatic finger at him. “Exactly!”

“So, Taiji heard a rumour that your team is splitting up.”

“Yeah.” Hizumi nodded, looking sombre. “Obviously we don’t have the old cash gig with Karigari anymore and now that I’m out too, well, we thought three’s not much of a racing team.”

“You could be their manager and recruit more drivers.”

“Nah. The boys have got it all worked out. Kirito’s been asking Karyu to join his team for a while, and there’s a new team called TMH4NS we think is right up Tsukasa and Zero’s alley.” Hizumi smiled up at Heath. “They’ll be fine without me.”

They made their way through the busy streets together. Normally Heath’s longer stride carried him quite quickly but he was enjoying their leisurely evening stroll and took the time to look at their surroundings, while the people around them kept their eyes down, hurrying this way and that.

Hizumi looked up as Heath took him through the door of a bar called Revolver. “Is this it?”

Heath just smiled and took him to the bar counter, where they were greeted by two of the bartenders.

“Heath!” Masato smiled broadly. “So is this the guy?”

Hizumi extended a hand and shook each of their hands in turn. “I’m Hizumi.”

“Are you ready for a major crash course in alcohol?” Ryo waved his arm at the wall adorned with all sorts of bottles.

“Sure am,” Hizumi said, nodding. “I’ll do my best. Thank you so much for having me.”

“You’ve come at the perfect time,” Masato assures him. “Heath has probably already told you, but there were five of us for a while. Then about a month ago Tal moved onto bigger and better things and with only four of us on, seven nights a week, we’re being run off our feet. You being here is going to be a huge difference!”

“I’m looking forward to it, but you’ll have to be patient with me,” Hizumi said humbly. “I hope I won’t be more work than help.”

Masato and Ryo reassured him that that would absolutely not be the case. Masato and Heath sat side by side at the bar and watched Ryo take their new hire off to show him around.

“So how do you know Heath?” Hizumi was asking.

“Oh, we go _way_ back…”

Masato nudged Heath with his shoulder. “You been good lately?”

“Yeah. You?”

The old friends chatted easily, although Heath knew that Masato was consciously avoiding asking him about anything that was directly work-related, and he appreciated his friend’s discretion.

“Seriously, we really appreciate you finding another person for us,” Masato said, getting up to fetch a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. “Ryo’s been working his ass off. I had to kick him out after he worked every night for two weeks straight.”

“He loves it,” Heath smirked. “If he could give up sleeping and just work, he would.”

“He sure would,” Masato agreed, handing Heath a glass of wine. “And how’s Sugizo? Is he still treating you right?” Masato eyed Heath carefully over the rim of his own wine glass.

“He was meant to meet me here, I—” Heath stopped when a light hand rested on his shoulder, and Sugizo leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

“Hey, handsome. Sorry I’m late.”

Heath’s cheeks coloured. Sugizo did enjoy embarrassing him in front of his friends every now and then. “You haven’t missed much. We were just gossiping about you.”

“I love it when people talk about me. Where’s Hizumi?” Sugizo reached for Heath’s wine glass and took a sip. “Mm. Nice.”

“Do you mind?” Heath chided, pretending to scowl.

“Not really,” Sugizo said carelessly, squeezing Heath’s shoulder and grinning. “Should I?”

“Ryo’s giving Hizumi the tour.” Masato smiled and offered Heath his own glass of wine. “Here. You can have mine. I should get back anyway.”

“Thanks again, Masato.”

Masato gave him a thumbs up and disappeared behind the bar and busied himself attending to customers, with Ryo and Hizumi joining them.

Sugizo finished off his glass of wine. “I think Hizumi will settle in well here, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think so.”

The pair watched Hizumi shadowing his new colleagues, watching and learning, his brow furrowed in keen concentration, eager to absorb as much information as he could. The others introduced him to some of their regular customers. At one point Taka came over to say hi and also thanked them for finding an extra pair of hands to make up for Tal’s departure.

At the end of the night, they finished their drinks and beneath the table, Heath slipped his hands into Sugizo’s.

“I think we should get you home,” he said.

Sugizo glanced at his watch. “Already?”

“Yeah.” Heath smiled. “I have a promise to keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad to have been able to wrap up this story, because it has so far been the second-biggest problem child in my WIP folder. I started it in August 2019, wrote about 80% of it and it just sat there being uncooperative for about six months until I rewrote large sections and finally finished in mid-March 2020. I particularly enjoyed the part in chapter 8 where Taiji and Sugizo open up to each other, and the part where Sugizo kicks Taiji in the nutss :)
> 
> I hope to see you on the flip-side for Taiji’s backstory: _Silhouettes and Cigarettes_!


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